


Supply

by Adishailan



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adoption, Best Friends, British Sign Language, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy at times, Foster Care, Frisk Uses Sign Language, Gen, Genderless, Light Angst, Magic, Minor Alphys/Undyne, Papyrus is one of them, Post-Pacifist Route, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader is a teacher, So is the reader, Take Your Fandom to Work Day, Teacher Toriel, There are many cinnamon buns, Toriel's school, Unconventional Families, slight spoilage for other runs, spoilers for pacifist run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:32:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6388018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adishailan/pseuds/Adishailan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have always believed that a person's actions define who they are, that a mind cannot be opened if it is locked from the inside, and that you should always change you ringtone at least once a week (preferably twice.)</p><p>You have many beliefs but no one has ever taken the time to listen to them. For them your presence, your beliefs, *you* are as fleeting as a burst of sunshine in the British Isles. </p><p>You are a supply. Supply teacher, supply parent. Just a supply. </p><p>Until you're not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is my fanfiction for Undertale. I've already got some other ongoing stories that I'm working on but I fell in love with the concept of this fic and couldn't get this idea out of my head.  
> This first chapter is a lot longer than the future chapters will be, but I have a lot of it written so I should hopefully be able to update quite regularly.
> 
> In terms of the story itself, I'm actually a teacher in real life and, while there are a large number of parts that are completely fictional and I have never experienced myself, some of this reflects my own and my friends' experiences with children and the hardships they can face. Especially when they are different in some way from those around them. 
> 
> A big thanks to Alkirian and Moosabus for all their help. I hope you all enjoy this.

* * *

 

You close your eyes and inhale deeply as the clicking tick of the clock drives another metaphorical nail into your head.   

How long have you been waiting here?  

Wait- no. You  _know_  how long you have been waiting here.

How  _much_   _longer_  do you have to wait? That’s the real question.

The tick of the clock somehow seems to echo as you release a long breath and open your eyes to look at it  _again_. 

It is not the cheap thing you imagined when you pictured this place, made of cardboard with a simple plastic covering. Instead it is glass and black wood, sleek with silver roman numerals marking the edge. Somehow you didn’t expect that from the social services. 

Perhaps you just had low expectations, perhaps you were fooled by the bland exterior of the building, or perhaps you watched too many TV shows as a child, with dilapidated orphanages and evil social workers.

 _Well, at least I guessed right on one out of the three,_ you muse to yourself as you think back to the phone call that had lead you here.

 

**_One day earlier..._ **

 

_You had just been loading up the washing machine with all your school clothes when you heard it._

**_*Mmm whatcha say…*_ **

_**What does it say about me that a ring tone is the most exciting part of the day?** You sighed. _

_You didn't know how soon you would be eating those words._

_You threw in the last pair of paint-stained, black trousers before racing to your phone._

_“Hello?"_

_You paused as the soft voice on the phone asked if they had the right person._

_“…Yes that’s me, who is this?"_

_“My name is Leanne Harper; I am the social worker assigned to the uh- **child**  Patero Affab.”_

_You missed the tone in which she says ‘child’, focused entirely on the fact that a social worker was calling you about one of your old students, and that said child was Patero of all people._

_What could social services want with him? His father seemed lovely, one of the nicest parents you had ever met. Oh god... you hoped this wasn’t going where you thought it was going._

_“I have to inform you that Mr. Affab, Patero Affab's father, passed away the night before last in a car accident,” the woman informed you in a bland and practiced tone._

_You almost dropped the phone._

_“W-what? Oh my- is Patero okay? Where is he?” you asked, heart beating in your mouth like a battered war drum._

_“It has been placed in an emergency foster situation. Unfortunately, we are finding it difficult to place it in a more permanent location and we cannot find any family.”_

_You were silent for a beat, eyes latched onto a small crack in your kitchen wall, before finally finding your voice as something occurred to you._

_“Why are you calling me about this? I don't know much about, well- and I’m not his teacher any more. I only acted as a supply for his class for a month. S-shouldn’t you be-”_

_“The school has been informed. I am calling you concerning… a different matter.” The woman interrupted you, voice becoming more hesitant as she continued. “…the **child** was asked whether it knew anyone it could live with as par with our ‘connected persons’ policy. It requested you.”_

_…Okay. Right- huh? What?_

_“He wants to live with me?” you ask in a soft but incredulous voice. You knew he liked you, every time you had covered his class he had raced up to great you; his large black eyes positively sparkling as you smiled at him and returned his greeting. He always put his best effort in around you, trying to get his work done first so you could smile at him and congratulate his work ethic… But surely he had someone else that he wanted more than **you** \- someone better and less-_

_The voice from the phone cut into your self-depreciating thoughts._

_“If it is possible, we would like it to stay with you until a relative or a more permanent fostering position can be found. You would only be acting as a short term fosterer and you would have consistant support from the social services throughout this ordeal,”_

_You blinked rapidly then looked around yourself._

_In the silence, the whirling, hitching hum of the old, off-white fridge seemed to scream at you; a rusted pot full of burned popcorn glared out from the kitchen sink, underneath a tower of unwashed dishes, and the smell of burned toast smoke lingered in the air along with a faint scent of mildew._

_“I- I uh. Well I don’t think I would be able-”_

_You stopped speaking as you hear a crackle of static from the frustrated rush of breath on the other side of the phone._

_“Of course… it’s fine. I’ve been hearing that a lot. Understandable really. It_ would _be hard to place a_ monster _. We’ll just have to place it in another emergency care until we find a better position,”_

_-And suddenly you heard it. You realised what you missed in your surprise at the horrific news._

_She had been calling Patero ‘_ it’ _._

_You felt all expression fall from your face._

_“…Are you still there M-?”_

_You interrupted her, voice cheerful, as you expressed your deepest sympathy's for her dreadful plight and asking whether it is **always**  so difficult with 'those monsters'. _

_The woman at first seemed surprised by your change of tone but soon chuckled bitterly and told you:_

_"Yes, but it's understandable really. Who wants a monster as a child?"_

_She seemed to take your silence as agreement._

_“Thank you again for your time. We will attempt to place it again and will update with the sch-”_

_“Give me the address of your branch. I’m coming in tomorrow morning.” You tonelessly informed her._

 

-And so it is that you are now sitting in the appropriately named waiting room, a light frown on your face and an unopened book bent between your hands.

A voice calls your name and you eagerly stand up, tossing the bent paperback into your rucksack. 

“Yes that’s me."

“Of course, please come into my office,” a woman, with a deep, unfamiliar voice and a face squashed like a bulldogs' smiles as you follow her into her cupboard of a room. On the wall there is a poster which reads ‘Hang in there’ but instead of the usual bug-eyed kitten there is a picture of a large bar of chocolate pegged onto a washing line.

You give the woman a look, eyebrows raised.

 “I was told to have an inspirational poster in here. I decided to get my own,” she explains with a shrug as you both sit down. “Now what did you want to see us about?”

You nod to yourself and take a deep breath.

“I need a new social worker assigned to Patero Affab.”

***

You quickly decide that you were wrong on your third childhood assumption.

Not all social workers were evil,  _especially_  not Fran Loel. 

She quickly became incensed as she heard what the other social worker said and how they referred to Patero.

“God, I’ve never liked that woman. It’s people like her who make this job a hundred times more difficult. I’m so sorry you had to deal with that. I’ll get on to finding a suitable replacement for her as soon as possible,”

You assess the woman’s riled up expression and sincere tone of voice.

“Can you work with Patero?” You blurt out. “I'd like to see him with someone who clearly cares for him,”

There is a moment of silence as Fran stares at you, her eyes widening faintly then narrowing as a faint blush of red crept up across her cool amber skin.

“I could say the same to you. Would you look after him? Where he is right now- well- the fosterers didn’t have much choice about taking him in and that’s h _ardly_ ideal…"

You look at your hands, teeth worrying at your already worried lips.

“That's- but I uh- I don’t know anything about raising children,” you quietly admit.

“Aren’t you a teacher?” she asks you, as par the course. You sigh loudly.

“Yeah I  **am** , but that’s different. I can keep children in order in a classroom and I can teach them but I have no clue about living with them. My flat is a mess, I haven’t got much room, I don’t even know how to cook properly! I’d have to do a major clean up first, turn my cupboard office into a bedroom and- insurance! Do you need to insure children? I mean with doctors and everything like that. I don’t know any of it!” 

Fran is staring at you with an oddly opaque expression in her eyes. You're unable to hold her gaze for long. “…I- I just don’t want to see him getting hurt any more, especially because of me.” 

Fran takes a long time to respond to your word vomit, seemingly mulling over the thoughts in her head.

“It’s not ideal," she admits finally, "what with your flat not being suitable and your age but… You seem to care so much. Look at how much thought you have put into this and what is best for Patero. As for ‘insurance’ and doctors, Patero will still be classified as a ‘child in care’. He's the responsibility of the government and the social services so you won't be doing these things alone…" Fran paused, waiting until you manage to look up from your clenching hands. "... If you decide to take him in, we won’t just throw you two together straight away. First you'll attend a meeting where you’ll learn about the needs of children, then you’ll get a visit from a social worker to inspect your flat. Even when he’s- if he was living with you, we'll keep on training you…”

You bite your lip again, a strip of skin catching between your teeth and tearing. It hums with the faint sting as new skin is exposed to the stagnant air surrounding you.  

“...What will happen to Patero if I don’t take him in?” You finally ask, hoping not to hear the answer you believe you'll get. 

Fran starts to tell you about emergency foster care placements and you cut her off.

“What will happen  _to Patero_?”

Fran hesitates then tells you a few possible results. You don’t like them.

She tells you to go take some time to think. 

***

When you get home you do not think. You do not worry or ponder or consider what you have found out.  At least not a first.

No, instead of all of that, you clean.

You pick up all the empty crisp packets and bottles of flat coke; you put books on shelves and sort out the bomb site that is your DVD collection; you empty your bins properly this time and finally, when you can actually see most of the floor, you crack out the hoover for the first time since you have arrived here-

Only to find it’s not working. The cord is frayed and bent at strange angles and the bottom is clogged up with thick, bristly, black hair that is _most definitely_ not yours.

Your hands drop to your sides and you fall onto your bottom, abandoning the broken machine to the dusty carpet. You look around yourself.

Why are you cleaning? You never put this much effort into your surroundings. You know you should but you never do; it never felt worth it. 

What are you trying to achieve? What is the point of this if Patero is _not_ going to live here?

**...You asked what would happen if he didn’t live with you. You didn’t like the answer…**

You consider, you ponder, you worry.

And finally, you think back to the first time you met Patero. 

 

* * *

 

 _You hadn’t met many monsters before that day. Actually, truth be told, you hadn't met any. Sometimes you saw them while out shopping or on the train and you could never decide whether it was impolite to look or to avoid looking, you felt you could never get it right but still you were so_ very _curious about them. As was the rest of the world, especially when it came to light that they traded in pure gold coins and had magical healing abilities._

_The first few months or so were very tense before those 'little facts' were discovered. You remember seeing news reports trying to paint them in a negative light as you watched the distant image of their fluffy king shuffle awkwardly in front of the cameras. You decided to turn off the TV when they started spouting off stuff about that legendary war being the monster's fault and how they may want to eat 'our children'._

_Of course the news stations back-peddled on this negative approach quite quickly when some cutesy kid ambassador started telling them off for being racist and one of the monsters off in America took over Broadway- oh and because of the gold thing as well, don't forget about that._

_And so it was- after a surprisingly short amount of time really- that monsters started being accepted into human society._

_The key word here being 'start'._

_You still saw people glaring at them on the streets, you still encountered shops and restaurants with signs reading: no dogs, no mons._

_You avoided those sorts of people (as usual) and places and instead did you shopping in foreign food shops, almost smiling when you saw the people who owned them greeting the occasional monster customer with huge grins. The most regular one, a small lizard lady, seemed to be very popular in several of them you noticed._

_You sometimes bumped into her when stocking up on bargain noodles. She always gave you a silent smile which was so nervous you couldn’t help but softly smile back._

_Still, for all you saw these people and quietly supported them, you had never spoken a single word to one._

_At least, you never did until you got called in to Harper School. Until the day you met Patero._

***

_"I have to warn you, there's a monster in your class. Try not to yell or scream when you see them," warned the receptionist as they lead you through the brightly decorated corridors._

_You quietly informed her that you wouldn't, brow furrowing at the implication but you weren't quite ready to tell off the person with a speed dial to your supply agency._

_As you stepped into your class and watched the children's faces light up at the prospect of what they perceived was an easy target, you forced yourself not seek out the monster in question._ _There was no point though, you soon discovered, as they seemed not to be in._

_Instead of focusing on this, you openly grinned at the class and told them exactly what their day was going to involve._

_You made small joking comments as you read through the daily notifications and laughed with them as they obviously tried to fool you with their names on the register._

_It was only when one of the boys threw a pencil at you that the smile drained off your face, leaving your usual serious expression that the child was wholly unfamiliar with. The class fell silent as you quietly explained in a hushed, carrying tone how they knew what they just did was not a good thing; stating how their behaviour was not even something a five-year-old would do, challenging them to prove their age to you so you wouldn't send them down to year one and away from their friends. They tried to smirk and laugh it off but you told them straight off the bat that they were just proving you right again and they needed to grow up._

_You could have heard a pin drop in the silence after that._

_What you heard though was not a pin, but the clatter of the door banging into the wall as a child all but threw himself into the classroom._

_"I'm so so sorry I'm late Mr Dane! My bag was- I couldn't find my bag and I- I- you're not Mr Dane..."_

_The children around you sniggered and the moment of silence was ruined. Oh how tempting it would have been to yell at the boy who may have just shattered the tenuous control you had just built up with the class._

_But you didn't. You're not that sort of person._

_You stood up and looked at him properly, hesitating for a moment as you took in his appearance._

_He was covered in silky, sandy- brown fur; a thick shock of lighter toned- almost blond- fur crowned his head with two earth-brown, floppy ears framing his face. He was very tall for his age, standing at just a foot shorter than you._

_Two wide, jet black eyes were_ _gazing at you and there_ _was a tremor to his square jaw as he took in your expression, unfortunately frozen in 'telling off' mode. You felt the other children's eyes snap onto you, eagerly awaiting your response._

_You turned back to child you were telling off before._

_"Let's see how you improve as the day goes on. Remember what will happen if you do not,"_

_You then faced the new child who looked very much like he wanted the floor to swallow him up whole._

_"You're right, I’m not Mr Dane. He’s off ill so you have the pleasure of learning with me for today. I take it you are my missing student; what's your name?" you asked with a quiet smile._

_He blinked twice, his dark eyes bugging slightly before he awkwardly looks down at his paws._

_"Uh- yeah. I'm Patero,"_

_"Cool name," you told him. "You're not too late but make sure you don't make a habit of this, go take a seat,"_

_Patero shuffled to one of the spare seats with a peculiar expression on his face._

_It's a little hard to tell but you think he's confused... Or maybe worried._

_You mentally shrugged and brought up the maths PowerPoint on the whiteboard._

_"Right class, today you have the amazing pleasure of learning about fractions with me. You may be asking yourself why this is, in fact, a pleasure. I can see by your face at the front you are saying just that, yes don't think I can't see you whispering. (Eyes to the front… **good)**. Well let's find out together exactly why I'm saying its going to be so fun!" _

_And so went the lesson. You got the children to count pencils, pens and rubbers around the classroom, telling you what the denominator would be and then finding the numerator of each colour, size and working or broken piece of equipment._

_The children slowly started to warm up to you, eagerly calling their garbled version of your name each time you passed them so that they could show you the new fraction they found. You smiled and nodded and occasionally clapped your hands with excitement when they told you something new they had discovered._

_When you got to Patero, you saw that he was working by himself, fiddling with the pencils in his hands, and watching you warily from the corner of his midnight eyes._

_You sat down in the spare space next to him and looked at the pencils clenched in his paw._

_He didn’t look at you so you gently took the pencils from him and asked what the denominator was._

_"...Dunno," he mumbled softly, looking at his own hands instead._

_You told him it was ten, then asked him why._

_"...Coz there's ten pencils."_

_You nodded._

_"What's the numerator then?" You asked._

_"You're not making sense. The numerator for what?" He asked, fur on his brow crinkling as his dark eyes flashed briefly to yours._

_You genuinely smiled at him for that and told him well done, that he spotted the trick question. The corner of his mouth twitched._

_You changed your question and asked what the fraction was for the red pencils._

_"It's two tenths because there are two red ones out of ten pencils," he told you, taking them from your hands and looking at you briefly, faltering when he saw your massive grin._

_"Brilliant! Now I want you to find the fraction of whole rubbers on this table and the fraction of broken rulers. I'll be back in a few minutes for you to tell me what you find out,"_

_He smiled properly at that for the first time, sharp needle-like teeth flashing bright, as he nodded determinately to himself and started counting._

_In English he was one of the first children to put up his hand every time you asked a question about similes, he tried telling you jokes about the lesson (my dad once went on a date with a simile, I don' know what he **metaphor**. Get it? Coz similes are like metaphors and- oh was that one?) and at lunch time he was the last to leave, quietly asking if there was anything he could help you with. _

_He was-_ and is _\- in a word: adorable._

_You found it **much**  harder to get on with the other teachers in the school in comparison. They all seemed pleasant enough but you were a stranger and they had a lot on their own plates. _

_You ate your slightly stale sandwiches alone in the corner of the over-crowded staffroom, not drinking anything because you forgot to bring a mug and this was one of those schools where riots occurred over 'stolen' crockery. You could tell by the fact that every mug had a label on it and the way that certain teachers glowered at each other while aggressively drinking their scalding tea._

_*Sigh* you sometimes wonder who the real children in schools are._

_There was **one** person you did get on okay with and, in a strange twist of events, it turned out to be the deputy head. _

_She came in, full of tight shiny smiles, asking how your morning was._   _Nonplussed, you put on your professional face and told her it was good; that the class seemed to have warmed up to you and that you've had no major behavioral problems after the first lesson._

_"And how did you get on with our special little boy?" She asked in a hushed, conspiratorial voice._

_Your mind drew a blank for a moment._

_"Uh- who is that?"_

_"Was Patero not in today?" She asked with a disappointed sigh._

_"Oh, him? He was fine. Actually he was really nice; he kept on trying to tell me knock knock jokes in literacy."_

_There was a beat of silence as the woman's lips pursed into a little 'o' of surprise, then she grinned from ear to ear._

_"Yeah he's really great isn't he. That one has the cutest laugh I've ever heard."_

_Your lips twitched faintly upward as you whole heartedly agreed._

 ***

_A week later, that same school requested for you to cover again but on a more regular period._

_It turned out that Mr Dane had some sort of back troubles so he was working on a more part time basis to try to reduce stress. Which is where you came in, much to you and your bank account's delight._

_Of course you now had to put much more effort into keeping the children in line over a longer period of time._

_You couldn't laugh off every attempt to trick you or ignore those little attempts to get away with murder, as children are sometimes inclined to try. There were only a few children who really tried to push your boundaries in the first month._

_Patero was never one of them._

_You feel bad about it as a "professional" but you've always had a habit of having favourites. You're good about it though, you don't **play**  favourites and you never let it stop you from treating everyone equally. But you **did** catch yourself occasionally smiling a little wider when you met his eye and sometimes you had to stop yourself from spending a little longer helping him out rather than the others. _

_...Maybe that's why it affected you so badly when you found out about the bullying._

_You should have seen the signs earlier really (_ you still feel sick that you didn't) _. He often came in late, with untidy clothes, scrabbling around with all his things. You had just wondered why he took them out of his bag before he came into the classroom._

_Some of the children would snigger and whisper things to each other each time this happened._

_And each time you would tell them to knock it off while gently chiding Patero for being late._

_You never had playground duty (being a supply teacher) so you never saw how Patero often sat on a bench by himself, how sometimes he would hide in the bathroom or what sometimes happened when he didn't hide._

And you never do find out _everything_  that happened during that time. 

 _You **did** know all about the bloody parents however, you took the children out to go home every day after all. They often shielded their children away when Patero or his Dad came out and you knew he noticed it. _ He's a smart kid. 

_There really wasn't much you could do about all this though, apart from reporting it to the school and they didn't really do much about it. However this didn't stop you from standing next to Patero, giving a fierce 'disapproving teacher' look to all who looked at him funny._

_You remember first becoming suspicious of problems **within**  the school just after a month in, when you saw the wad of chewing gum meshed into his fur. _

_You stopped him as he was rushing away and took him to your classroom, where you got a comb and a small tub of Vaseline and started to gently work it out._

_You asked him how that happened._

_"I- it was a game- an accident."_

_Alarm bells started to ring softly in your head._

_"A game?" You quietly asked._

_"Y-yeah. Like tag. This sort of thing's normal in that game... right?"_

_"...Normal is a made up word Patero, used by people who are scared of things that are different. This... isn't what most people would call 'normal'  though, nor is it right,"_

_The boy stilled under your hands and turned to look at you with wide, frozen eyes._

_You bit your lip._

_"Who-"_

" _Knock knock," Patero interrupted you with a desperate smile._

_"...who's there?" You asked, gently bringing your comb through his matted but beautiful fur._

_"Canoe,"_

_"Canoe who?"_

_"Canoe help me with my homework?"_

_"No, do it yourself," you chuckled_

_The rest of that lunch break was taken up with you listening to his knock knock jokes._

_You couldn't_   _get all the gum out._

 ***

_You found it difficult to sleep that night with the growing sound of alarm bells. You stared up at the dusty artex ceiling and finally, after finding every single face and odd shape in the mass of lines and crevices above you, you made your decision to find out what was going on._

_You didn't like what you found._

_"Boys are always like that! They love a bit of rough and tumble,"_

_"Well, have you seen his teeth?"_

_"I've told you before: the deputy is too busy for stuff like this, get back to your class."_

_"Huh, who? Oh you mean the monster?"_

_"_ I _'m not giving you a safeguarding form for something as small as that._ _He's fine, he's always smiling isn't he?"_

_"What did you expect? He's different, children are always gonna pick up on that."_

_You decided enough was enough._

~~~

 _You taught your class about Ruby Bridges._ _You taught them about the struggle to create non-segregated schools. You taught them about the tests that were purposefully made too hard for the children to be sent to these schools._ _You taught them about the six children who passed it and how Ruby ended up alone in her school._

_Then you showed them a video about what happened next._

_You couldn't teach or show them everything. They are young and your purpose wasn't to upset them._

_Some of them end up getting upset anyway. There were mixed reactions from the children. Some of them became angry, asking why people would say or do things like that. Some tried to laugh it off, only to fall silent as the video progressed._   _Others were just contemplative. But every child was riveted and listening. Every single one of them wrote that letter to that six-year-old Ruby, offering her advice and encouragement, telling her that she was doing something good. Telling her that she wasn't alone._

_At the end you asked the children to think of who they would be helping in that time, the mob or Ruby._

_They told you they would be with Ruby obviously, what a stupid question._

_You then asked them to silently think of something important: if the same thing was happening today, who would they help? Would they be brave enough to stand against so many?_

_The bell rang as they sat in silence and you sent them home._

_The next day five parents would complain, dragging their flushing and confused children in their wake as they stormed into the school. Even more phoned in as you started to more obviously promote understanding and good relationships between Monsters and humans. Some angry conversations would happen, letters sent in and, in the end, the head teacher would decide you were not worth the effort._

_He didn't complain about you or let anyone know the real reason he stopped employing you (he wouldn't want the hassle of you calling in support from your teacher’s union) he simply said the school had no more need of you..._

_It spread though, the distorted version of the real reason. Things like that do. You found it harder and harder to get jobs in good schools, sometimes having weeks without jobs and without pay. Only the desperate would now take you, the schools in which teachers would often be off ill from stress or just off with no reasons given._

_But in that moment, in that classroom, you didn't know you would be loosing your job. You didn't know any of what was to come. All you knew was that the children had listened, and maybe- just maybe- you were starting to make a difference._

_You turned to see Patero come up to you, an elated expression on his face and a paw scratching nervously at one of his floppy ears._

_"... Can I **really**_ _send my letter to her?"_

 

You blink several times, coming back to the present. 

Your eyes fall on the broken vacuum-cleaner on the floor, then the move to your own hands. They are clenched into fists. 

You have made your decision. 

You go out and buy a new hoover. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being a teacher you have to be so careful of what you teach. It is so easy for someone to take offence, so it's important to make sure you have the backing from the school before doing anything that can possibly blow up in your face.  
> The reader isn't so careful, too focused on what is happening in the moment to consider what will happen in the future. 
> 
> I have never taught anyone about Ruby Bridges but she is one of my heroes and one day I'm sure I'll get the opportunity to share her story with my students.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like a failure of a fun loving person. I did absolutely nothing for April Fools day- except for voting for a tumblr Lizard (and what was that anyway?!)  
> At least the weather was nice. I got to go see lots of bouncy lambs and a demonic goat at the local reserve for "wild-life" (aka: a small tree filled park of farm yard animals and the occasional 'wild' duck)  
> Hope you guys had a more productive pranking day than me.

* * *

 

It takes just over a week to sort everything out. Fran _somehow_ manages to become your social worker and, while you had an inkling at your first meeting, you now know, with a stone clad certainty, that she is both hilarious and kind. She helps you with everything. She even comes around and helps you set up Patero's bedroom. Fran's surprisingly brilliant with IKEA instructions and a paint brush. 

Once the flat is cleared as a non-hazard zone, she lets you know you'll have Patero with you this Friday. 

You are strangely excited as she smilingly tells you this. You have to keep reminding yourself that Patero will not be feeling the same way. He has _just_ lost his father and he's going to need help with that and to talk about it and- and- **and doesn't that just scare you half to death.**

The reality that the funny guy with a short frizzy beard and those huge floppy brown ears that always covered his eyes- the friendly monster who you would see giving Patero piggyback rides home each day- is  **gone**... Well... It hasn't sunk in properly yet. You can't imagine how Patero is feeling, but you try anyway as you attempt to wrap your mind around this concept. 

 

* * *

 

 

Patero arrives at 4.30pm with a slightly exhausted looking Fran and a battered half-empty rucksack. 

When you see him standing in your doorway, he acts both as you expected and as you didn't. At first he looks apprehensive, blinking around himself as he clutches his small bag tightly to his chest. 

Then he meets your gaze and his face lights up. He calls your name and bounds over to you, just stopping short of hugging you. 

"Hey Patero, long time no see!" You grin happily, pleasantly surprised by his enthusiastic greeting. 

The kid's smile kind of freezes at that as he stares at you for a drawn out moment. Then the floor seems to draw his attention like a magnet, his body tense and still. 

...Did you do something wrong? You want him to stop looking like that. 

You look over to Fran and she winks at you, putting you at ease... slightly. 

 _It's to be expected_ , you tell yourself, taking a deep breath.

"Come on, I'll give you the grand tour," you tell him, offering your hand to him. 

He doesn't take it but he nods with a small, forced twitch of the mouth. 

Bizarrely, he seems to like the kitchen-slash-living room and the ‘cosy’ (dinky) bathroom if his expression is anything to go by. From wide eyes to satisfied nods, you rediscover how expressive and mobile his face can be as you show him around your home. 

"-And this is your room," you tell him, taking him into what once was your 'office' (*coughcomputergamesroomcough*)

Out of all the rooms, this one had been the most difficult to prepare. To decorate or not to decorate? That had been the question. In the end Fran took the decision out of your hands by gently reminding you that this is a temporary fostering so you shouldn't do anything too permanent. 

As you look at Patero's expression now though, you know you've made the wrong choice.  

The room is bare and beige. There is a simple single bed framed by a small window and bland curtains that came with the flat. It looks like a place to sleep; it doesn't feel like a room to live in.  Patero can see that; he's a smart boy. 

"...Think of it as a page of white paper," you whisper to him in a conspiratorial tone. "Wanna crack out the crayons?"

His frozen forced smile dissolves into an incredulous look of surprise as you wink at him. He turns to Fran who's face holds an expression _somehow_ torn between mild worry and side splitting amusement. 

"I call dibs on pink crayon," she finally informs him. 

As you all get to work using the crayons (which took a ridiculously long time to locate in your now neat flat) Fran sidles up to you with an odd expression on her squashed face. 

"Not that I don't think this is a lovely way to great your foster son or anything, especially after what happened this morn- well with _everything_ that's happened... but aren't you worried about your deposit?" She whispers to you. 

Your hand pauses in your drawing as you make a mental note to ask more about the fosterers Patero was staying with before, when he's not in the same room. 

"Oh don't worry about that. I lost it ages ago," you softly explain. 

" **Ooh**? Do tell,"

You chuckle for real this time and shake your head. It's probably not a good idea to tell a social worker (even one as cool as Fran) about your drunken exploits with an iron and that bloody pin cushion. 

Drunken ironing, who'd have thought it wasn't a good idea?

The chuckles fade away as you finish drawing out a window frame and start to fill it in with blue. 

"...I'm a little bit worried though," Fran murmured after a brief silence. "Remember this isn't _permanent_. He won't be staying here forever, unless..."

You look at her and she's staring at you, in that way that makes you feel a little uncomfortable. 

"Well- just make sure you don't get too attached, either of you, if this is going to be temporary," 

You frown and make to ask what exactly she means by that but she is already turning away and complementing Patero's drawing of an airplane. 

You slowly turn back to stare at the fake window in front of you... You continue to draw. 

 

* * *

 

It’s fun. That first afternoon you don’t know if you’ve ever laughed so hard in your life as you watch Patero enact the superhero you draw together, or if you have ever smiled so much as he falls back on the sofa to regale you and Fran with his knock knock jokes, which he seems to have learned hundreds of off by heart.

It’s only when Fran finally leaves that evening, giving Patero a soft noogie and you a wink, that the feeling of fun starts to fade and a thought occurs to you:

_Now what?_

You look to Patero and find that same thought nervously reflected on his face, making you smile again.

“C’mon, I’m getting hungry. Let’s have a scout around the kitchen,”

You are not prepared for the impact those words seem to have on him. For a moment he is frozen in place. Then the small shy smile drains off his face as it scrunches in on itself.

“M’ not hungry,”

Uhhh...he’s got to eat though. Basic rule of fostering, actually it's so obvious it’s not even a rule: FEED YOUR CHILDREN!

You flounder for a second as you try to think of a response to this. Then, with a deep breath, you rein in your panic.

“Okay, but as I said: _I am_. Can you help me choose something good? I have no idea what I want,”

 _Nailed it,_  you think as you see Patero suspiciously nod.

When going through the fridge his eye’s quickly light up as he sees the pack of fresh tuna Fran made you buy.

“How about this? I think you’ll like fish,”

You actually hate fish but you nod anyway and ask him how he recommends you do it as you’ve never cooked it before.

He seems rather shocked at that.

“You don’ know how to cook fish?” He asks incredulously, before shrinking into himself as he recognises how that tone came of as.

“Why don’t you teach me?” you ask in all seriousness.

There is a beat of surprised silence then Patero fights back a small smirk and tells you to get out some onions.

To be honest, you're not a great cook. If you have the instructions in front of you, fine, yeah, you can make something simple like a stir fry. But making something off the top of your head- well- that would be on par with the drunken iron incident.

You urgently hope Patero has more sense than you as he mentally recalls the ingredients. 

He seems to though as he has you cutting up all sorts of things to make a ‘base’ of some sort.

“What are we making again?” you ask. 

He just smirks again, lazily weaving his paw through the rising, swirling steam, and repeats that you’ll find out soon enough.  _Sigh._

In the end it turns out to be a odd sort of tuna soup thing and, surprisingly (seeing that it's  **fish** and  **you** helped cook it), it turns out to be delicious.

You sit down with a bowl in front of you and two spoons (" _oops picked this up instead of a fork, wanna help me not waste a clean spoon?_ ") and eat it together.

“This is so good! How are you such a good cook at such a young age?” You ask after swallowing down a huge mouthful. You didn’t know fish could taste like this. It feels so light in your mouth, as if it's candyfloss dissolving on your tongue.

There is a smile on Patero's face as you speak but it quickly fades away to be replaced by a pinched, contemplative expression.

“My Mahd taugh' me,” he tells you.

“…Mahd?”

He blinks twice and refocuses on you.

“Oh yeah, well it’s a made up word me and my ‘dad’ came up with, coz I don’ have a mum anymore, so he says he’ll be both… he  _said_  he’d…”

He falls quiet. The new fridge hums and a drop of water plonks loudly into the sink. You desperately scramble for things to fill the sudden void of silence opening up between you.

“I like that name,” you finally tell him, taking another mouthful of the soup. “Your Mahd had mad cooking skills,” 

There is a split second where Patero looks torn between sadness, anger and amusement. Luckily you gamble pays off and he smiles slightly.

After tidying up from dinner (you are determined not to let this place become a pigsty again, not while Petaro is around) you tell Patero to get ready for bed and then watch some telly on the couch; both quietly chatting about how ludicrous the film you found is.

( _Oh that's cool. Wait... what? What’s with him?_   **I honestly do not know.** _Why are they taking him with them? He’s so annoying_!  **Heh, don’t judge it, the originals are much better!** )

At about nine o’clock you feel a soft thump on your shoulder and look around to see Patero's head on your shoulder, his eyes forming two fluttering black lines of thick lashes as he takes in warm, sleepy breaths against you. 

A strange soft feeling creeps up from your chest to your mouth as you lift up the worryingly light boy and take him to his bed, carefully cocooning him with the thick duvet. 

“...Night Patero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fran is one of my secret favs. Social workers have such a hard job and barely any praise. It pained me slightly to write that social worker from the last chapter who called Patero 'it' but people like that (and much worse) unfortunately do exist in every profession. I've met teachers before with that sort of attitude and it makes me seriously angry.  
> But then again, I've met so many more teachers with lovely and inclusive attitudes.  
> I haven't actually spoken with many social workers yet (being removed from them in my job unless the worst happens) so I don't have the clearest idea of what their jobs and lives are truly like. Sorry if I've made any mistakes on that, hopefully I haven't!


	3. Chapter 3

The clock clicks loudly in the dark. The soft green glow emanating from the kitchen illuminates it to show that it’s three in the morning. You rub your eyes exhaustedly.

The ticks of that clock seem to echo in your head. 

You wonder how each movement of that hand could possibly be a second, the ticks feel far too long and there isn't a single 'tock'. But the noise keeps coming, one after another, marking the slow but endless progression of time.

You look over at the calendar, hung up by the TV, and contemplate how both quickly and slowly the time has passed since Patero joined you. 

Eleven weeks… Almost three months, almost a quarter of a year, and what a quarter of a year it has almost been…

It’s been strange being responsible for someone else. You find you actually start cooking more (with a lot of pretend begrudging, but eventually enthusiastic, help from Patero) rather than eating greasy takeaways all the time. You have quickly realised that you can’t be as lazy as you want to be (no more sluggish weekend lie-ins for you. No, you need to get up to make breakfast, study new martial art movements with Patter and go to the park). In addition to that, your morning and evening routines have changed drastically and you can no longer stay as long as you want at your supply jobs after school finishes.

The supply jobs have actually started to become an issue as you've grown the need to make your schedule more clear cut. You can tell that your sudden comings and goings are not making the kid too happy.

You have started applying again for full time teaching jobs, with a renewed and determined attitude for finding an actual, proper job. You've had no luck so far though. Most schools don't put out adverts for full time teaching until after Christmas and it's hard with the competition from the Newly Qualified Teachers; they’re much cheaper to hire and fresh from University, not the supply teaching line.

But tomorrow is a new day, and you have a feeling you’ll probably be called in to another school. Hopefully it will be better than today’s one...

Your grumpy work thoughts are interrupted when you hear the soft creak of a door and feel the couch next to you dip down with the light weight that had joined you. It’s heavier than it was in the first week, but still not heavy enough to your mind. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask as per usual, keeping your tone light as you reach over to turn on one of the lamps.

“I’m jus' keeping you comp'ny,” a low, muffled voice returns.

“Thanks,” you smile and turn to look at Patero, making sure your eyes didn’t linger too long on the ruffled and slightly damp fur around his eyes. 

“I’m thinking hot chocolate tonight, want one?”

Patero nods and follows you to the kitchen as you start bustling around with pans and milk. As you do this you start talking.

“So this time mine was this gigantic spider, which in itself wasn’t scary. What  _was_  scary was the squirrels riding it. They had red glowing eyes and everything,” You lie as you pop down a small ceramic mug in front of Patero before turning on the hob. 

Unknown to you, he softly smiles and starts gently tracing the pattern of the mug with the tip of his claws as you turn up the heat on the pan.

“…Mine's same as usual,” he tells you, staring into space.  His claws retract and form soft paws once again as you briefly turn your head to look at him, before turning back to the pans. 

You hum faintly, letting him know you were listening without words but (once again) he doesn't seem to want to go into any more detail.

“…I would tell you that talking about these things can make it a bit better but I uh- I won’t _make_ you. But if you ever want a distraction or to talk, or  _anything_ … well- just know that I er- I  **am**  here for you,” You scratch your ear awkwardly. God, talking like this is so embarrassing…

There is a long silence as the milk heats up. It stretches out for so long that, for a moment, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep.

“… Thanks…”

Oh, okay, so not asleep. 

“You’re welcome,” you murmur before shaking in the coco powder to the milk and pouring the mixture into the mugs.

“Now I’d usually offer you marshmallows but I think this is bad enough for your teeth as it is,” You inform him with mock seriousness as he eagerly starts inhaling the steam coming off the brew. 

He pauses and looks up, catching your tired gaze with a peculiar expression to his face. It's a dark and shimmering light in his eyes, with a slow, almost lazy turn to his lips. 

Holding your gaze he raises both paws up around the mug and slowly looks down, leading your gaze to the faint column of steam rising off of it. 

There is weird feeling in the air around you. It seems stiller somehow as you lean in and stare at the swirling air. 

Patterns seem to form under Patero's fingers as he moves them around. Lines of white mist curls in on itself and fans out in a sweeping beat, moving quickly under the thoughtful gaze Patero gives it. 

"...that's amazing... the meditation is definitely working, you're getting finer control," you breathe, looking up from the swirling mass of lines to meet Patero's quiet grin. 

"Think it's the circle walkin' too," he murmurs, sweeping one hand over the other and locking them in place before curling both back as the steam spirals up into two columns of swirling water vapour. 

The lines mellow out as the drink cools and Patero lowers his arms, releasing a tired puff of breath. 

A small chuckle escapes your lips as Patero thumps back into his chair. Your laugh grows as he replies with a soft furrow to his brow.  

His frowning expression quickly morphs into smiles as you both swallow your laughter and quietly drink down your mugs.

It only takes another five minutes for him to start yawning again but it takes another ten to convince him to go to bed.

 _Well_ , you think as you exhaustedly clamber into your own bed,  _the time it takes to send him to sleep has improved from the first night, that’s for sure_. 

 

* * *

 

Three hours after you finally fall asleep, your alarm clock goes off.

You stare murderously at it. The clock doesn’t care for your glare and beeps even louder.

With a sigh you turn it off and start your bleary process of getting yourself ready, putting your trousers on the wrong way around and your shirt inside out your first attempt.

“Sigh,” you say in a monotone, too sleepy to actually show emotions yet.

The daily routine then begins in earnest: you get breakfast and lunch ready and then go to attempt to wake up Patero. 

A fluffy lump glowers at you from underneath the bedspread as you poke it with the handle of a feather duster (you learned your lesson about touching Patero with your bare hands in the morning  _very_ early on and are not likely to forget it in a hurry).

After five minutes of this, Patero gives up and allows himself to get herded into the kitchen to eat his MTT flakes.

You stare blankly at the remote control look-a-like figure smiling (somehow) on the cover of the box and take a slow sip of your coffee.

“What’s your plan for today?” you ask Patero after you judge he has had enough sugar-encrusted flakes to be somewhat non-murderous again.

“School,” comes the monosyllabic reply.

You give a huffing sigh and pour a few more sugar flakes into his bowl. You never said you had good judgement. 

Your work ring tone startles you from your bleary cereal musings.

*  _Dun Dun da-da Dun dun da-da dun dun da- da dun dun- De da doo... de da doo-*_

“Hello?” you answer it, cutting off the mission impossible tune as you push away the tiredness from your voice and put on a bright, stupidly cheerful tone. 

Patero finishes off his bowl of sugar and shuffles to the bathroom with a sigh as you listen to the voice on the other side of the phone.

“Yeah Karen, I’ll be able to get there in time. Don’t you have a post code for it though? I don’t think I can remember all those directions... why isn't it on Google ma- ... Huh? N-...wait a second-"

You scrabble for a pen and paper, asking for Karen to repeat it one more time- much to Karen’s disgust.

“What sort of school is it? Do I need to bring anything in particular?”

You frown as you listen to Karen’s scratchy, evasive reply. Oh _goodie_ , it’s one of those schools. You start to wonder vaguely what happened to the last unfortunate supply sent there but Karen cuts your thoughts off again with a reluctant warning that you're going to be teaching a combined year five and six class. 

You grimace but thank her for the job. You can’t afford to be picky, even if the differentiation and class control will be a bitch.

When you finally hang up the phone, you find Patero standing behind you with all his stuff ready, his large, blondish tuft of fur brushed into a sort of Mohawk shape which almost sends you to your knees with laughter. 

He tries to act like you’ve offended him but you can see the hidden smile as he reluctantly lets you pat it down. 

“Got a combo class today, Patter,” you tell him as you shuffle on your black coat and smart shoes (it always pays to be well dressed at a new school job) “Year 5 and 6. I can smell the spit-balls already,”

Predictably Patero frowns at that as you lead the way out of the flat.

“What they’ve actually been spittin’ at you?” he asks, full of high pitched, incredulous irritation.

“Hmm? No, not this school. This is a new one... hey lighten up, I’m exaggerating. I don’t get spat at,” ( _much_.)

Patero doesn’t seem very convinced by your lighthearted front but doesn’t say anything as you both race down the concrete stairs, him beating you to the bottom by about a minute.

“Ooh me old bones,” you groan as he moans for you to hurry up.

It only takes ten minutes to deliver Patero to the School’s early drop off club (you think it’s called the ‘breakfast club’ but you can’t remember for sure) and wave him off. Unfortunately, your sense of direction is crap so you need to allow an extra quarter of an hour to find today’s new school.

You sigh as you set off, wondering what this new school has in store for you.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So about the circle dancing thing...  
> I will go into it in a bit of detail later on in the fic but if you're curious now here you go:  
> So I was watching a bit of Avatar: TLAB a little while ago and I suddenly thought: 'how would the characters from Undertale react to this badass show?' If I were in their shoes I would definitely try out some of the tricks. Which is what Patero and the reader have been doing with the 'circle walking', (also known as Baguazhang, but do not ask me to pronounce that), which the air bending movements was heavily influenced by (or so certain websites say). Just look at how amazing it is though: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDawG_4nTjE
> 
> I definitely wouldn't recommend learning at home without instructors like these two are doing,, that sort of stuff can go majorly wrong. They did try to find place where Patter could be taught but sadly they wouldn't accept him.  
> (the teach has a small amount of knowledge about martial arts and also, as they're using this mainly to develop Patero's magic, the classes may not have been that helpful anyway)
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter. There are plenty more on the way :)


	4. Chapter 4

You stare up at the school before you with a practiced, assessing eye. 

You don’t know what you expected. When you first started out in this line of work you often tried to come up with a mental image before arriving at each new job. 

 _Perhaps this one will be a redbrick building with an old fashioned bell ringing through the halls and gigantic windows to let the sunlight in,_ you remember once pondering. 

It’s not a redbrick building and it isn’t large… well not much larger than usual at least. In fact, the first thing you noticed, before the actual school, were the strange topiary bushes. You could have sworn one had been cut into the shape of a skull but- well- you had been late and out of breath; you must have been mistaken right? What sort of school has skull topiary?

You focus instead on the school itself. It seems to have two stories and is built from orange-brown bricks. There are two off-white columns supporting the front of the building. The paint is flecking off of them in parts, leaving cool grey concrete in its place. Above the main doors, there is the school name; it simply reads: ‘School’.

 

Stealing a breath, you take a step forward. 

The school day is about to start so there are no floods of children or stampedes of impatient parents shoving past you. It is quiet and calm, which is probably why you don’t expect the deep, gravelly voice that greets you from behind.

“Howdy there, who are you?”

Startled, you quickly spin around, your over-packed, fabric briefcase swinging painfully into your legs as you meet the steady gaze of a- a gigantic monster. You vaguely register that he's more than twice the size of you and is covered in white fur and blond hair (of a slightly lighter shade than Patero's fur), with two large, curving horns poking out on either side of his head. He is holding a large pair of gardening sheers in one of his paws and... somehow he seems very familiar to you.

The brief spark of pain is forgotten. Your eyes widen and your mouth parts slightly.

“Amazing,” you breathe, before seeing a growing expression of befuddlement and regaining control over yourself.

“Uh- sorry about that,” you state, scratching your head embarrassedly before holding out a hand. “I’m the supply teacher for the year five and six class,”

You don’t often meet gardeners in the schools you temp for. In fact, this is the first time you have ever shook hands with a 'school gardener'. Well, shook fingers. He very carefully places his broad forefinger and thumb around your hand and gives one gentle- if slightly uncertain- shake. 

“Ah yes, of course, I’ll take you to the ‘ **boss’** ,” he murmurs deeply, unaware of the odd musings about reinforced gardening sheers floating through your head.

As he leads you through the school doors and into the tall but narrow hallway, you see more and more monsters rushing to and fro.

 _So **this**  is why Karen was so tight lipped about what type of school this is_, you muse to yourself faintly as you see a yellow lizard with no arms dash down the hall.

“This is where I leave you, I can go no further,” came the rumbling voice of the gardener once more. You squint up at him, then at the door next to you which seems to be (by the row of chairs outside it, and the smart looking glass) the head teacher’s office.

“I- uh- thank you but I think you took me all the way Mr…?”

“Dreemurr, but you can call me Asgore,” he smiles softly before wandering away.

You turn away from the oddly enigmatic gardener, take a deep breath and knock on the door. It simply reads ‘Toriel’.

This School really has a thing for simplicity, huh.

_...Wait a second- **Asgore Dreemurr?** Why does that name sound so-_

The door opens just as you are staring up at the ceiling in thought.

“Oh, greetings! Are you the supply teacher?” asks a kindly voice that instantly reminds you of… well, not  _your_ mother but definitely some enviously kind TV mums. It’s incredibly strange to see this gentle voice coming out of the fur-clad monster towering above you.

“Yea- Yes I am, Ms Toriel,” You clip out, staring up at her with wide eyes.

The being in front of you smiles uncertainly, gaze roving over you (oddly fixing on your chest for a moment) and her soft silky fur somehow dimpling over her brow.

“...Toriel is my first name. We have little use for surnames around here,”

You feel your eyebrows rise at that but she is leading you into her office before you can even think of commenting.

“Before you start covering that class I would like to ask you a few questions. I am sure you can understand why; I can tell you are an... intelligent sort,” 

You blink twice at her assumption of your intelligence. Usually something like that would be a compliment but somehow, with the way she said it and the way she is now looking at you over a tight, brittle smile… Ye-eah, not a compliment.

You nod anyway, curious about what she wants to ask you.

“Were you aware that this is a school for monsters?” she asks, straight off the bat.

Ah, she noticed your reaction to her… damn, you're slipping with your professional mask. 

You keep your expression cool as you quickly contemplate how to answer her… 

You decide (foolishly) to go for honesty. 

“No, I didn’t know until I arrived,” you start but you quickly feel your next words curl up on your tongue as you see the exasperated glare settling on Toriel’s face. (Gosh it feels weird not to give her a Ms or a Mam before her name, even in your head.)

You choke out your next words anyway in the face of her irritation.

“I don’t mind though. T-there is nothing  **to**  mind,” You consider telling her that you have a foster child who is a monster but you somehow find you don't want to, something about using Patero that way doesn't sit right with you. 

But even without this additional fact, Toriel's glower is softening ever so slightly into mild bewilderment as her mouth opens to say something- only for the door behind you to slam open with a resonating crash and another monster to come in. This time a scaly blue woman with fan like gills and a huge scarlet ponytail.

“Tori! Is that apply or sup or whatever- teach here yet?! I’ve gotta go set up for my rugby lesson!” She booms, seemingly not noticing you as she puts the entirety of her focus on the head teacher. 

“…Undyne,  _who_  is with the class right now?” Toriel asks in a slow, carefully calm voice which promises untold horrors for an unfavourable answer.

“...Oops! GOTTA RUN!” The woman, Undyne apparently, exclaims as she quickly dashes away from Toriel’s glower.

You turn back to Toriel who sighs loudly.

“Can’t be helped, follow me,”

You wince at her tone but quickly scramble after her, feeling like a scuttling crab as you struggle to keep up with her large strides along the hallways. You try to play it off as cool and collected power walking but you’re not sure it’s working.

Well… you don’t know exactly what you did to screw up so badly so early on but it’s pretty clear she doesn’t like you.

And that’s… okay- it’s fine, really. You’ve dealt with worse. She at least seems to really like the kids and looks really protective of them, which is... well, let's just say it's a **huge** plus in _your_ books.

So you keep a-hold of your calm expression and you raise your head high as she leads you through a rather grand looking hallway, covered in children’s drawings.

You almost smile when you see a display on family with a huge collage of different drawings, paintings and photographs from the children.

“How many children are in the class?” You eventually ask, when the gulf of silence between you two gets too large to ignore anymore.

“…It’s a small school, your class has twenty-one children in it. Nine from year 6 and twelve from year 5.”

You nod, impressed by her knowledge of the children, hiding away your faint smile once more as she turns to look at you with a sharp expression.

“I apologise if I have been rather distant with you but we have  _not_  had good experiences with the temporary teaching agencies. You are only here right now through necessity. I am taking my usual class and all other teachers are too busy. I will have to ask you therefore to act with the utmost respect around  _our_   _children_ ,”

An underlying ‘or else’ is practically screamed out from the way she calmly looks at you. 

There is a long silence as she waits for your answer.

“…I will Ms Toriel, and in exchange all I ask is for you to extend the same courtesy to me,” you find yourself telling her, your back straightening and head held high and steady, offering a sharp contrast to the shrinking feelings and raw, painful thoughts running circles around your mind.

She slowly nods, apparently satisfied, and turns to open the door you both stopped by.

 _Take calming breaths, you’ve dealt with worse,_  you tell yourself _, calming breaths_. You try to push the sharp tone and belittling words out of your mind (unsuccessfully) and get your teaching face back on (successfully) by the time Ms Toriel faces you again, hand on the doorknob.

“Do you wish for me to introduce you?” 

“No that’s fine,” you quickly tell her, just imagining what would be said in her introduction. 

“Hmm, I will see you later then,” 

You nod to her and release a heavy  breath before entering the classroom.

 

Children- you’d take them over adults any day.

And these children? Well, you soon find you’d take them over pretty much any child you ever taught before (excluding Patero). 

As you enter you are surprised to find, that in a classroom with no adults, there has been no arguments, lynching or even getting out of chairs.

Instead the children are all having a quiet chat or reading books. In all it looks like the classic picturesque classroom you find in every over-posed school brochure ever made. 

That is, if the classic picturesque image included fur, scales and puppy dog tails… Loads of puppy dog tails… oh god- about a third of the class seem to be puppies.

You decide that the classic images could be damned as you smile at your class.

All eyes snap to you as you stand at the front, full of surprise and a vague sense of wariness.

“Hello class,” you smile, feeling the tension melt away from your body as you become the intense (and bewildered) focus of everyone’s attention.

The smile doubles on your face, you're in your element. Adults: avoid at all costs, but children? Yeah you know where you are with children.

Your grin continues to grow as you introduce yourself, feeling slightly odd on your face as you give them your first name but they don’t notice that (or at least they don’t seem to mind.)

They are practically bouncing out of their seats by the time you finish calling the register, wishing each of them a good morning and beaming at every child who returns your good manners. Which, again, turns out to be pretty much all of them, except _maybe_ for the one human there and a purple, flaming girl who both seem to be talking through their hands instead. But you think they were saying good morning anyway. 

In terms of lesson plans, this school doesn’t really seem to have much written down. 

All you can find is a scribbled post-it note that reads:

 

> _Human! You're teaching maths (Roman WARRIOR numerals) and English (researching EXPLODING volcanoes). The afternoon is PE with ME and a geography lesson on earthquakes._ _DON’T MESS IT UP!!!_
> 
> _UNDYNE!!_

You smile a little at that, although you’re not really sure why; you should have been fuming at the fact you’ve been given no resources and seem to have no Teaching Assistant, but something about the way this person wrote feels oddly endearing.

_Roman 'warrior' numerals...heh._

Roman numerals is a simple enough lesson though. Most of the kids seem to have a basic knowledge already and you’ve done this one so many times before that you know how to make it fun.

“Alright, in your pairs let’s see who can come up with the largest Roman numeral using the symbols on the board,” you tell them as you hurriedly prepare their next task of a coded message using the numerals. 

The children really enjoy your next activity: decoding what the random order of Roman numerals you write up on the board mean, while looking at your hastily created code keys.

 

“-cause you can’t get bigger than three symbols together,” came the loud voice of MJ or MK you think (that yellow lizard boy you remembered seeing in the hall earlier). You pause in your walk around the class to look around and see him talking to a child sat next to him in a stripy top. The one who responded to you calling their name earlier with several hand movements.

You see M-something watching avidly as their friend communicates through their hands and (while you managed to work it out during registration) you silently wish to yourself people would tell you before-hand if there were deaf or mute children in your class. You need to know whether they need extra support or anything to help include them in your teaching. 

“How you two doing?” you ask, squatting down to their level and looking at what they have found so far.

They seem to have only two word so far: ‘I am’

“Brilliant,” you grin as you look at it. “Can you explain how you found these?”

The silent one sighs inaudibly and starts moving her hands around, not looking too interested in your reaction. 

“I’m sorry, I only know how to fingerspell and the sign for boat (don't ask me why). Would it be okay if you wrote it down or had you friend explain to me what you’re saying?” you ask them.

That catches their attention as they gaze at you with the vaguest bit of interest on their otherwise expressionless face, before bending over their mini whiteboard and scribbling something down. 

‘III = 3 which is I, VI = 6 is a and X = 10 is m,”

You grin toothily, congratulate them and ask for their name again. There is a flurry of hands which you just about understand.

“F- F-R-I-S-E- oh it’s not a E? K? Frisk? Cool, nice to meet you Frisk,”

Frisk hesitates, staring at you for a drawn out moment before giving you a soft smile, drawing a thumb over their chin and bringing their two index fingers together. 

“…Is that how you sign ‘nice to meet you?’” you ask.

They nod with a larger smile, corners dimpling as they steadily watch you, and you find yourself mirroring it as you try to copy their sign. They silently chuckle and re-position your hands when you get it wrong.

“Oops, better get back to the rest of the class,” you say after a few minutes of this, realising that yeah you’re here to teach, not to learn sign language (at least not at the expense of others).

 

* * *

 

“Over here, hey can you look at this?”

“I’ve found out what the first line is! H-Have a look at mine!”

“Yo, you think this is right?”

It’s strange seeing all twenty-one children vying for your attention so much through the rest of that morning, but you try to help them all to the best of your ability. 

You nod patiently as a little boy with blue fur, floppy bunny ears and a bright yellow top, stutteringly explains how he combined the code to make his own message. You listen with a (somehow) straight face as what appears to be some sort of a cross between cat and dog, practically vibrates out of her seat as she explains how volcanoes are ‘T0ital c0oL AWH!’; and you have to physically stop yourself from laughing at how hard all the dog monsters wag their tails when you complement their great fact fetching skills. 

 

You feel like your mouth is going to be stuck in that stupid grin all day when you send them off for lunch, waving goodbye to a little spider girl with pigtails, five eyes and six furiously waving arms, in the most adorably kitch dress you have ever seen.

Said smile fades quickly though as you survey the now empty classroom and realise you now have to leave it for lunch...

Maybe you could try and find that gardener again, he seemed kind of nice... you're not sure is eats lunch in the school though. 

Again there's the option of just staying in the classroom but you don't want Ms Toriel coming to meet with you again while you're alone. Besides... for once you're kinda curious about the sorts of teachers who work here. 

So you pick up your classy lunch of a thermos flask of Poundland cup-a-soup and some cheesy wotsit crisps, and leave to hunt down the staff room. 

When you finally locate the place (after checking almost every door on the ground floor and ducking under the Ms Toriel's frosted window several times too many) you bashfully enter, only to freeze in place, surprised by what you see. 

It isn't the lush, cushiony carpets or the squashy violet sofas that surprise you. Hell it isn't even the shining barista machine or the huge mahogany table. You aren't noticing those things right now. Instead what your widening eyes are focusing on is a familiar scaly face with a bowl full of noodles in front of her. The familiar face looks equally surprised to see you too. 

"Oh, hello," you say to the spectacled lizard, realising as you speak that this is the first time she's properly heard your voice. 

"H-hello," she returns in an awkward but surprisingly pleasant voice, eyes trained on you uncertainly. "W- what are you doing here? I- I mean- n-nice to meet you. Uhh I- are you the huma- I mean- are you the supply t-teacher?"

You nod, holding out a hand and formally introducing yourself. 

Slowly she takes it and gives it a short shake, looking down at your soft, human hand in her own small, scaly claw with an odd expression before pulling back and looking down at her noodles again. You don't notice the strange contemplative look on her face as you sit down across from her, almost sighing as the chair welcomingly embraces you. 

"...M-my name is Alphys, I uh- plan science for the primary children and sometimes uh- teach the older o-ones...Y- you go to the same noodle store as me, I thought I r-recognised you,"

"You mean that Japanese supermarket" You ask, sitting upright now and pulling out your lunch, "yeah I recognised you too. Small world huh?"

"…N-not really," Alphys murmurs and, yeah, you suddenly feel like a jerk. 

"You seen much of it yet?" You find yourself asking, pouring out your lame lunch so you can avoid meeting her eyes and taking a small wincing sip. 

"I- uh- no. I sometimes go to this b-beech with Undyne..."

Alphys seemed like she couldn't go on any further as her scales flashed bright red. 

"Undyne... I think I saw her earlier. Is she the PE teacher here? What's she like?" You ask, faintly amused by the scarlet bloom on her cheeks. 

And suddenly Alphys lights up as if you turned on some sort of switch inside her. Her eyes (somehow) glow with a bright anime-ish sparkle inside of them and when she opens her mouth...

By the end of lunch time you feel like you know more about Undyne than any other person in this school. 

She is very cool and kind. She is brave and has huge muscles. She likes fighting, cooking and suplexing boulders (it sounded almost like Alphys was saying children but changed her mind half way through-you hope you're wrong on that). 

You smile when you see the blush bloom and grow and cover her entire body as she stops halfway through telling you more about their first trip to the beech. 

"Your girlfriend sounds really great," you tell her, and after that Alphys physically cannot get any redder or even talk for that matter. 

Luckily it is around that time that you realise you've got to go back to class and so her sudden muteness doesn't matter. 

You wave goodbye but you don't think she's really seeing anything right now. You hope she'll be okay for her next lesson. 

 

Luckily for you it's the famed Undyne taking **your**  next lesson so you can get on with marking your books. It even gives you time to nosy around the school a bit. 

The place does seem well organised. You see hundreds of displays on the children's works or different (oddly colour coded) values such as kindness, bravery and determination. 

You also get a chance to have a quick look through the school policies and ethos which must be the most interesting and well put together documents you have ever read. 

When the class finally come back an hour later, they seem so hyped up that you wonder if Undyne has been feeding them concentrated sherbet. 

They're still lovely though; even when vibrating on the spot they still try their best to listen to you and don't talk out of turn (too much). 

While your next lesson _is_ going to be fun (planning and acting out how to deal with earthquakes), you still think that starting it now isn't quite the best idea until they've calmed down a bit. 

So you decide to play a game. 

* * *

 

By the time the end-of-school-bell rings, the children (somehow) seem to think you're awesomeness personified. 

They loved simulating an earthquake and theorising the best ways to keep themselves safe. They were all earthquake experts, complete with badges (hastily scrawled post-it notes) that said so. 

But what they loved the most was playing that 'two truths and a lie' game. They loved telling things about themselves to you, allowing you to discover lots about the different members of the class (mostly that some loved riddles, some adored nice-cream and many weren't in fact secret agents or astronauts), and they discovered, to their surprise, that you cannot actually cook very well, you know some basic martial arts and that you were once a background extra in an unsuccessful spy movie. 

The 'extra', 'background' and 'unsuccessful' parts are quickly edited out of their memories and, by the end of the day, you are a famous ex-film star, no matter what you tell them. 

The fact that the _whole_ class seem to both adore and respect you so quickly- well, it really surprises you. Lately, as a supply teacher, you are often met with glee filled disruptions, boundary testing and the occasional mauling. 

This is... nice. 

You quietly smile as you watch the non-feral children flood out of the school into their families' arms, before making to leave.

But you hesitate at the door for a second, softly watching a grinning Frisk being gently picked up and swung onto the back of a rather excitable, rather tall skeleton, and you feel... well, it doesn't really matter what you feel. 

You shake your head and instead focus why the skeleton's face looks familiar to you. 

When you finally dismiss this curiosity with a shrug and turn around, you are startled to find Ms Toriel standing right behind you with an oddly confused expression on her silky face. 

She seems to be staring at your chest again but her eyes quickly rise to meet yours. 

"Did it all go well?" She asks with a small, forced smile curling at her lips. 

You stare at her then back out of the door to see that little spider girl, Widette, wave all six arms at you again with a sweet pointy-toothed grin.

"Yeah... it did," you murmur. 

You look at Ms Toriel and see she had been following your gaze, smiling out at the children as they great their parents. It's a real smile. 

"Thanks," she says and you find yourself at a loss for words. That doesn't stop you from still (idiotically) trying though. 

"... Uh- you're welcome... I- I've got to go. Got to go pick up- well I've got to go." You tell her as you awkwardly edge past her to get to your bag. 

 

You dash out of the school, waving goodbye to a startled Alphys on the way as she is rapidly talking with her nonplussed girlfriend, and quickly (but carefully, always carefully) drive off to get Patero. 

You told him after all that you'd try to pick him up earlier than usual today.

You've never really prided yourself on keeping promises before, but with him you find that you want to try. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you finally get to meet the cast of Undertale... well some of them anyway. Don't worry though, more are coming.
> 
> Sorry if Toriel seems a little harsh at first but it's understandable as the last Supply left a lasting impression and she's really wary of them now. 
> 
> The roman numerals lesson is a brilliant activity by the way, my kids just loved it to pieces. I wanted to put a picture of it in so it'd be clearer to see but I really don't understand how to put pictures in on this site.
> 
> That two truths and a lie game is great as well. I used that when I first met my class and it really helped me to get to know them. My ones were different to the readers though. I told them that I have: climbed an erupting volcano, ran a marathon and been in a magazine. They didn't manage to guess which one was the lie >:)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've managed to sort out the planning for English, maths and RE. All I need to do now is make the powerpoints for Maths and finish off some marking that I've been procrastinating on.   
> Yay! Perfect time to procrastinate more and post a new chapter of Supply :D
> 
> Thank you again for everyone who has left me kudos and comments. You don't know what your support means to me.

* * *

 

Most of the parent's cars have gone by the time you arrive but you're still earlier than usual. It's only quarter to four and there are still a few parents waiting. None of them are particular favourites of yours but you mozy on next to them anyway. 

"Afternoon Lewis," you speak quietly as the snobby new parent turns to glare to you. 

You blink mildly back as she snippily surveys you and looks away. 

_Hmm... Maybe she's improving. 'If you haven't got anything nice to say, better to say nothing at all' and all that._

"See you haven't shaved your pet yet," the woman grits out, turning back to give you what she probably thinks is, in her limited experience, a murderous glare. 

_...So that's a decided no on the 'improvement' thing._

And is she _still_ pretending her child is allergic to fur? You were sure that her hundredth trip to the doctors sorted that psychosis out.

Then that word she used to describe your Patter sinks through the fog of irritation in your mind...

_Pet?_

You stare steadily at her, unblinking as she tries to look away. 

" **You will _not_ talk about Patero like that** _,_ " 

The other parents are staring at both you and the woman in front of you with looks ranging from distinctly nervous to faintly disapproving. 

Although your time at that school had been brief, many of the parents do remember you and- while at the time your lessons on monster-human relationships were not greatly appreciated- they do still _somewhat_ hold a hint of respect for you. 

This parent, on the other hand, is showing no such inclinations as she huffs up like a puffer fish and unsteadily glares up at you. 

"Y-you can't tell me what to d-"

"Put a sock in it Lewis," said one of the dads as they turned to leave, his boy clasping at his hand and glaring up at the hissing balloon woman. "No one wants to hear it,"

Lewis flushed red, glared at the man and you then stalked a little way away from you both. 

"Thanks Paul," you say, with raised eyebrows. How odd…

Paul simply shrugs and leaves, his kid (Zaayn, you now remember his name is) enthusiastically waving at you as they go. 

It's as you’re watching them walk off that you feel the quiet heat of something soft and warm hovering by your arm, almost touching you

"Hey Patter," you grin as you quickly twist on the spot to ruffle his fluffy head. Your hand stills in the soft mess as you realise... he's letting you touch him... 

Which is  **odd**... Usually he jumps back with a soft scowl on his face, moaning for you to:

 

  _"Stop doin' that," he had whined only yesterday._

_"Never," You had deadpanned, going for his head again, finally breaking in and laughing when he bounded away with a yelp._

_You had felt Lewis's disapproving gaze again but fuck her, you were going to ruffle that kid's head no matter what._

_In the end you cornered him but bopped him on his button nose instead and ran off to your car, Patero close on your heals, knifelike teeth glinting as he laughed._

 

But now all he does is stand silently next to you with a mulish expression, foot kicking the thick autumn leaves littering the car park. They quickly fall back into a soggy, orange heap on the grey tarmac. 

"Hey... how was your day?" You hesitantly ask, leading him back to your car. 

"Okay," he shrugs "...My team won a volleyball game today,"

"What, in the sports team?"

"No... in PE... I didn' make the team'a final cut,"

You stop, your hand frozen on the car door handle.  

For some reason or another Patero has become obsessed with Volleyball recently. You have no clue why but it seems to make him happy. Until now apparently. 

"Oh, I'm sorry Patter..." You murmur, turning to face him. 

 He doesn't look at you, murmuring something to himself. 

"...’s not fair," you catch. 

"Why isn’t it fair?" You ask, leaning against the off-white car door and patting the space next to you. 

Patero ignores this, looking at the space then down at his feet again. 

Other cars are leaving the car park now. If you were to look away from Patero you would probably see Lewis glaring at you as she tugs her rather grouchy looking boy after her. 

You don't see this, nor do you see the odd look the boy gives your Patero. 

You just see your ward's paws clench and unclench, his brow rise and furrow and the words hesitating on the tip of his tongue. 

"MrBurrowssaysIcan'tcompetecozit'dbecheatingandtheteam’llbethrownoutofmatches," he garbled out in a sudden burst, throwing himself against the car and glaring down at the ground with shining eyes. 

It takes a few seconds to take in these words, understand them and for all expression on your face to drop off. 

You become quiet, each intake of breath soft as velvet as you nod, looking down at your watch. 

It's just past four now. He should be here still but it's not one hundred percent certain. Also you don't think it'd be a good idea for Patero to be there with you when you speak with this man. 

"You got your ball Patter? Let's go," you say, getting into the car and turning on the ignition. 

"W-what? Where're we going?" He asks, jumping into the car and putting on his belt at your pointed look. 

"...We're gonna have a match, you and me, and I'm going to be the judge of how 'unfair' this is."

"I don' want to..." He murmurs as you cautiously drive out of the space and towards the exit. 

You stop the car at the turning out of the school and bite your lip. 

"...Then let’s just play together? We'll just go into that court in the park, show all the regulars how it's done,"

You turn to look at him and find him tentatively mimicking your bad lip biting habit (you wince faintly).  Finally he nods. 

With a wane smile on your lips, you nod back and take a left turn.

"...By the way, Fran's coming around again tomorrow evening. Not for an inspection this time, but still best make sure you hide all your weapons of mass destruction when we get home," you tell him around a hidden yawn. 

Predictably this sets Patero into a fit of soft giggles. You smile, more warmly this time, and drive on to take Patero to the park. 

He slaughters you at volleyball and you love every moment of it.  

 

* * *

 

That night (or perhaps you could call it the next day) you wake up at two in the morning, eyes like glue, wincing as your phone softly chimes by your ear. 

...Maybe tonight he'll be fine? Maybe he's too tired from that game you both played earlier? Maybe tonight will be  **the night,** the one wherehe sleeps the  _whole_  way through and you can just. Go. Back. To. Bed... 

But you don't. You wrench yourself out of the warm cocoon of blankets and go sit on the sofa with a cup of rapidly cooling, watery tea, occasionally shaking yourself awake as your eyes drift shut against your will.

As usual you don't turn on the lights, knowing that it will show under Patero's door, so your flat is shrouded in darkness. The only illumination to the room, a soft green light, comes from the sleek new fridge that glows across the island separating the living room from the kitchen.

Your eyes slowly drift over to the mirror that sits above your plywood mantlepiece at a strange tilt, allowing you to just about see the exhausted person staring back at you, a glitter of sickly green light illuminating their shadowed eyes. 

The green-tinged darkness swims in your vision. Huh... You wonder distantly if you can even tell the difference between open and closed eyes, whether the green would... would show... through...the...

 

The next thing you know, you are very warm, there is a light shining on your face and your neck feels very uncomfortable. 

Your eyes flutter open and they find that, somehow, it's morning and there's a blanket wrapped around you, tucked sloppily into your sides. You stare at it, mouth softly parting. 

The clock ticks loudly in the room. 

Your hands gently start to roam over the soft purple fleece, fingers tracing over the pattern of swirling golden stitching. 

Then your phone chimes, startling you from you revere. 

* _Hi new ETA is 5pm that cool? Fran xx_  *

You frown, look at the time on your phone and promptly freak out. 

"WRAHHH! PATERO, GET UP! WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!" You yell, jumping up and promptly tripping over the blanket that has  _somehow_ weaved itself around your legs. 

 

It's probably the fastest you've ever got ready, unfortunately Patero doesn't seem to get the memo and grouchily takes the same amount of time to coax (poke) out of bed as usual. 

You tie in the race down the stairs today though and, after some quick (but careful, _always careful_ ) driving, you arrive back at the school for another day of maths and learning. 

"Have a nice day," you tell him "and uh- thanks," 

He simply shrugs at that and darts out the car before you can get another awkward word out. 

You wait for just under ten minutes before you take your seat belt off and follow him into the school. 

 

It doesn't take too long to find Mr Burrows once you're past reception. 

In his office, full of plastic sports trophies and cardboard framed team photos, you listen to him as he unwillingly explains the 'unfair advantage' Patero has. 

You ask him to explain what this advantage is exactly. 

You don't like what you hear. 

You calmly listen to the Sports co-ordinator  _try_  to give you a clear explanation about how magic is an unfair advantage, how Patero is faster and stronger than other children. 

You ask what kind of magic he uses. He doesn't know. You ask how much faster he is. He doesn't know. You ask how much stronger he is.  _He. Does. Not. Know_. 

He carries on talking. 

After five minutes of listening to him you stop him and let the silence pool in his sweaty cubical-like office. It is only when you see him hesitantly opening his mouth again that you finally explain your silence by calmly giving him your definition of the word ‘discrimination’. You ask him if he agrees with your ideas but you don't give him enough time to answer before you are mildly asking whether the school governors could give a similar answer to you. 

You pause as you see Mr Burrow's expression at that and sigh loudly, tapping your fingers on the desk loudly before trying a different approach. 

"Listen... we all have different understandings of what words mean. Using a dictionary definition doesn't mean much, never has," you take a breath and look up, pinning his shifting gaze down with your own.  "It's _people_  who define language not books... and that's what I'm asking you to do now, with my child. **Define yourself** ,"

You leave Mr Burrows with a worried, contemplative frown on his face and a blank, thoughtful expression on yours. 

Patero will later jump on your back with excitement when you pick him up from school, sharp toothy grin telling you how he made the team. You will simply return that grin and ruffle his hair.

* * *

 

 

_*Knock knock- kn-knock knock*_

You and Patero open your eyes to share a look as you recognise Fran's signature knock.  You grin as you see the sharp, devilish smile creep up your ward's face. 

"Who's there?" He shouts out, unfolding his legs and stretching stiffly as he clambers up from the mat and plods over to look through the peep hole. 

"Adore," came the muffled voice of your social worker. 

"Adore who?" You join in, as you roll up the meditation mats and stow them away. 

"A door is between us. Let me in,"

"Brill, you got the password," Patero tells her as he opens the door. 

Fran responds with her usual laugh, which  _has_ to be the most peculiar laugh you have ever heard. It starts as a deep throaty chuckle that then oddly curls in on itself with every breath. It sounds almost like the noise a dog makes just before it throws up. Both you and Patero love it. 

She exhaustedly clatters into your apartment, dropping off her suitcase and shedding her smart black coat as she goes. 

"You got any coffee?" She asks with a tired wink as she peals off her socks. 

"Can I make it?" Patero asks, taking Fran's coat from the floor and hanging it up on one of the free tea towel hooks in the kitchen. 

"You can add the milk if you like," you comprise, following him in. 

"...What?  _Don' you-"_ your eyebrows raise to your hairline at his strange tone of voice, cutting what ever he was about to say to the quick as he sees your slightly perplexed expression. "...sorry, I'll do tha'," he tells you with a small smile. 

You shake your head slightly, brushing off the image of his furrowed brow and instead focusing on his soft grin as you both prepare Fran's drink. 

 

After the rather milky coffee is served out and Patero has finally been convinced (read: bribed with snacks) to go finish his homework in his room, you and Fran get down to the nitty-gritties. 

"So I managed to get back those forms yesterday, you're now _officially_  an official long-term fosterer. Barring any surprise family popping up, you have custody rights for now. Go on, bask in my awesomeness; I know you want to,"

You smile contentedly as you gratefully thank her, but your gaze is quickly drawn back down to your tepid glass of water. 

"...Still no sign of anyone?" You ask in a low voice, your finger circling the rim of the glass, creating a low humming noise. 

"No. No family friends either. Apparently Mr Affab wasn't the social sort after his wife died, kept himself and his son in a rather secluded part of the icy bit of the underground or 'Snowin' I think it was called,"

"Yeah,  _Snowdin_ ," you confirm, thinking back to what little you managed to pry out of Patero about his time underground. "Patter said they lived in a bungalow in a clearing in the forest there, below a cliff. Apparently his da- his Mahd knew a _few_ people, but hadn't seen them for a few years, even _before_ coming up here,"

Fran hums thoughtfully at this, taking another deep, wincing drink of her coffee before fixing her shockingly blue eyes on you. 

"Something's bothering you," she blandly states, putting her drink down  with a dull thunk and twisting in her seat to face you full on. 

You bring your finger around the glass rim once more, then with a breathy sigh, cut off the soft singing sound and tell her about the school and Mr Burrows. 

You haltingly explain how you are thinking that maybe... maybe Patter needs to go to a different school but then you'd have to move to another catchment zone and you’re not sure about that because what if the next school is the same or even worse? You don’t want to disrupt his life any more (he's had enough of that) or make him feel like he has to run away from his problems. 

Fran smiles at that and agrees softly with your concerns, gently nudging your knee with her bare foot as she tells you to take some time to think about it all. 

"...You know what?" She asks, looking up from her foot to your eyes. "I'm constantly surprised by you. You’ve come a long way from that singleton slob I first met and it hasn't even been three months yet..." 

You slump back into your chair, not quite certain of how to respond to that other than throwing Fran a bashful twitch of your lips. 

"You still thinking of properly adopting Patero if the family can’t be found?" She asks, removing her foot and returning her focus to her lily-white coffee with a faint grimace. 

"I... I want to but... Well I don’t know if the social services will agree with that as it'll just be single old me- well single  **young**  me, which is another problem in itself and I- uh I still haven’t got much money or a _full time_  teaching job yet..."

Fran huffs at you as you trail off, and grumpily asks if you’ve forgotten what her job is. She sighs at the gormlessly surprised look you give her and tells you she’ll do her best on the adoption front if you work on that job and money thing.

A tenuous smile overtakes your features and you open your mouth to tell her-

Your phone goes off.

“Sorry, work,” you tell her, ignoring her coughing chortle at the fact you now have the ‘jaws’ theme as your work ringtone.

“Hey Karen, you’re on late today. Thought you only worked nine to fi-… oh … yeah, by the way, thanks for the bloody warning about that… No, I _really_ wouldn’t ha-…wait- what?”

Fran takes another sighing gulp of her coffee-milk and watches you as you move the phone away from your ear to look at it incredulously, as if you made a mistake. As if it isn’t really the agency who just called you and it was someone else talking to you with a nasally voice named Karen. 

“Wait a minute- wait a minute… They want me? But I thought-” You’re cut off again as Karen relentlessly ploughs on with all the details and you scrabble to keep a mental note of them.

“Next Monday? Really?... Oh I- uh- okay, yeah, tell them I said yes,” you all but stutter, smiling toothily even when the woman abruptly hangs up on you.

“I- uh- just got a maternity cover contract,” you utter, eyes dazed and smile on your mouth, “And with Ms Toriel’s school as well. That’s so- I thought sh-they didn’t like me,”

“Who couldn’t like _you_?” Fran asked with a scoff, but a grin was quickly overtaking her features. “Look at that huh? Maternity cover, sounds a lot more permanent _and_ good for your CV. You’ll get that full time job in no time, just you wait and see!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was going through my sketch book and found a few drawings I did for this story when I was coming up with ideas of how different characters would look like. Most of them are of amazingly bad quality or rather odd designs but I did kinda like this one of Patter: http://curlyhairedone.tumblr.com/post/142591371919/i-did-some-character-designs-when-coming-up-with 
> 
> Upcoming chapter involves a lot of awkwardness, mending of bridges and everyone's favorite Skellibros. Hope you enjoy :)

* * *

 

Toriel’s school really is different from any other you've been to before, gardeners, first names and skull shaped topiary aside (yeah it really is a skull bush, you weren’t hallucinating). 

For one thing, PSHE and RE aren't treated as optional, cast-aside subjects, like some schools are prone to do. Quite the opposite really; every other day the children are exploring morals, different religions or some form of conflict resolution. You find it absolutely fascinating. 

Many of the other subjects, such as English, maths and geography, seem to be based on the human National Curriculum. The two main exceptions of this are the magic lessons taught by Ms Toriel and the puzzle lessons every Friday. 

The first you don't know much about and are told, in a clear and unquestionable manner, that you will _not_ be teaching. (You do manage to quietly borrow a small book titled ' _the magic of air'_ for Patero though.) 

The puzzle lessons you _do_ teach though and they seem like a mix of riddles, maths and obscure obstacle courses.  You find it a tricky concept to get your head around at first but, with a bit of help from the other teachers, and some quiet pointers from Patero, you start to really look forward to them. 

 

Before you started, you briefly got to meet the teacher you’re covering for. The kids all call her the shopkeeper but she introduced herself to you as Violet. 

She is, in all, a very soft monster. Not in the way that she’s soft in attitude, you can tell the class know not to cross her, or even that she's soft in appearance (which admittedly she is also.) No, she's soft because she’s one of those teachers who never need to raise their voice, the type of teacher who could whisper and still be heard, the kind of teacher you always try to emulate but often fall short of somehow. You think that sort of hushed control may come with age, or maybe life experiences (at least that's what you hope.)

Either way, you know you’ve got big shoes to fill, and- while you’re nervous about that- you are also terribly excited.

This job also pays well and the fact that you’ve now got a consitant in your life- well, you’re sure Patero is going to be happy. He seems vaguely interested when you first tell him, asking questions about the teachers there or what you're teaching. Beyond that though he doesn't really talk about it, treating it like any of your other jobs: something to chat about but ultimately nothing to do with him. This confuses you as you thought- well... but you don't say anything about it, simply smiling and nodding when he changes the subject to the new class captain elections. 

You had actually been a bit hesitant to tell him at first; worrying that perhaps the school got the wrong name, that Ms Toriel would take one look at you and throw you out. 

 

Your first day back there actually _does_ go well though, as (to your surprise) Ms Toriel does **not** chuck you out and the children even remember your name and really get into your teaching. Monster Kid ("Yo! Call me MK!") in particular seems to adore you, gluing himself to your side during your first break duty, asking you a stream of questions about both you and the human world as you patroll the playground.  You outright refused to answer questions during class time when they're supposed to be working, so break time was the perfect opportunity. 

And it wasn't just MK that was trying to seize it.

"Where do you come from?" Asked a mouse kid, barely stopping themselves from tripping over their long stroppy scarf as they scuttled after you. 

"All over,"

"Yo, you really a human?" MK butted in again, over-taking the mouse to speak with you as you walked across the small glade of woodland behind the school.    

"Yes,"

"Wha- what's the film you were in called?" Panted a little white dog with a nose like a black love heart. 

"I'm too embarrassed to say,"

"..."

"Illuma's askin' what's it like to be a hum'n?" Asked a foal with lime green hair, nodding to the blue flaming girl next to him.  

"Uhh..."

" _Can you pet us_?!"

" ** _Ooh please can you pet us_** _?!?"_

"I really don't thi-"

"CaN u doO mahjik?"

" _Of course they can!! Didn't you see what they did with their_ -?!"

" ** _Are you staying with us forever_**!?!?"

"...I-"

" **Hey, hey, can you do this**?"

"Probably not, really now why would I want to do that with my tongue?" 

The next questions are obscured by giggles at your silly, smiling tone as you continue to walk out of the soft leaf carpeted glen and across the amber field before you, a steady stream of children trailing in your wake.  

 

You are getting to be quite popular with the kids. This isn't _that odd_ really; for some unknown reason children seem to like you most of the time. What **is** odd however, is that it's not just the kids you're getting popular with but the teachers too -well- more popular than _you_ are used to...That is, **two** people sit with you that first lunchtime. 

It's rather unprecedented really and is probably the reason you can't get a word out when the infamous PE co-ordinator plonks down her lunch next to you and pulls up a chair. 

"What up human?!" 

"Uhh..." You eloquently reply. 

"H-Hello," came a less shouty voice from your right. 

You turn and exchange a small (slightly confused) greeting with Alphys. 

"So I heard you're taking Frisk's class huh?!" Undyne all but bellowed out, redirecting your attention to her as she steadily gazed at you out of her shining, yellow eye. 

"Oh- uh- yeah. They're a good kid,"

You know instantly that you've said the right thing as her lips part into the largest grin you've ever seen. It's the kind of smile that makes you wish you brought your sunglasses in. 

"Yeah! They're a real firecracker aren't they!"

Well, you're not sure about that. They're very mature for their age, that's for sure. It's only been one and a half days (including your last time here) but already you've seen them diffuse two arguments, stop a fight, cheer up the puppies when you sadly told them you couldn't give out belly rubs and help others with their work. 

So you just hum softly with a smile as you listen to Undyne go on to describe how good a chef Frisk is. 

"-even the first time I cooked with them. They flattened the tomato and boiled spaghetti like you wouldn't believe! Real brave too, didn't act scared once which was awesome coz usually people get real scared of me after I try to k-"

"Hi!" Interrupted Alphys with a startled yelp. "I-I uh was meaning to a-ask you if you need any help with your science lessons,"

You raise your eyebrows at the abrupt interruption of the story and the strange, almost flinching look on Undyne's face at this, but don't comment, instead going with it and asking Alphys about what the children know about electricity. 

Turns out, not much. The conversation then moves on to what Alphys knows about electricity. 

Which turns out to be quite a bit, this surprises you for some reason. You feel especially nonplussed when Alphys starts talking about how she mixes magic and electricity without causing explosions. 

She stops herself after a while, blushing and embarrassed that she was going on for so long. You look over to Undyne who had been gazing at Alphys with glazed eyes for about ten minutes now. You meet each other's eyes and then, in an odd united front, both poo-poo the idea you're not interested in what she has to say. The science co-ordinator is surprised that you want to listen to her as she goes on to explain her role in the school. 

You discover that she works here more as a volunteer than an actual paid teacher and focuses on her scientific research when not with the kids. It doesn’t really surprise you that Alphys can be so carefree about payed work. Monsters are well known for their money. 

You find it cool to learn some of the stuff she has been researching and really start to enjoy her passion on the subject. 

Undyne seems to be enjoying it too if the bizarrely gentle smile on her face is any indicator. 

From that lunchtime on (whenever you have the time) you often join those two during break times, silently chortling at their stories and reservedly grinning whenever their enthusiasm burst out in either Alphys's excited babble of words or Undyne's (slightly alarming) suplexing of the staff room furniture. 

A couple of weeks of this and you are starting to consider them as, well not friends _yet_ but friendly acquaintances definitely. 

In fact, you're starting to get on with a lot of the other staff much better too. 

You still see the gardener Asgore about the place, often stopping in his work to wish you good morning when you're on break duty. He's pleasant enough but feels a bit off sometimes and clearly doesn't want to talk about himself too much. 

Gerson, the year 3/ 4 teacher, **loves** to tell you about himself, often regaling you with stories about this and that. He doesn't always make sense but he does have a fantastic story telling voice (excluding his strange habit to say "wahah!" In every other sentence). It's suitable for enthralling the most distractible of children, and you particularly adore his rambling descriptions of the crystal star caves.

The year 1/ 2 teacher, a no-nonsense librarian-esque monster, you get on with well enough too. She's definitely got the sweet teacher aura down to a pat and can make a mean cup of tea. 

 

The only teacher you're unsure of in this school is the reception-slash-head teacher, otherwise known as Ms Toriel. 

You generally try to avoid her company, while making sure it doesn't look like you're avoiding her. 

A very tricky balance but you've had years of practice and Undyne and Alphys haven't picked up on it yet. 

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) Toriel is a bit sharper when it comes to things like that and it doesn't take long for her to awkwardly corner you in the staff room one lunch time. 

You're expecting her to cut to the chase and ask why you keep tuck, duck and rolling past her door each day, but she doesn't. 

Instead she sits next to you (still toweringly tall even when sat) and softly asks if you're settling in okay, if there's anything you don't yet understand. Which... Well- there's a lot of things about this school that you don't understand but you're managing to keep your head above water. 

You're coping. 

The sound of her sigh sends a twinge of undefined unease through you. You think it may be guilt but you're not certain. 

Whatever it is, it prompts you into opening your mouth and trying for civilised conversation. 

"I haven't yet thanked you for this job yet have I? I'm sorry about that," you say, avoiding her gaze as you look down at your hands. 

"It's... fine. I realise that I did not give you the welcoming greeting I should have. We had some rather... unfortunate experiences with the last few supply teachers, _especially_ the previous one from your agency."

You frown slightly, trying to remember the small number of teachers you have encountered from your own agency. 

"What was their name?"

"She was called Natasha, and-"

"Wait, Natasha Bradare?" You question, turning to look her full on with wide eyes. 

"You know her?" 

"I thought that bigot had been fired," you grit out between your teeth before taking a deep calming breath and reining in your professional mask. "Did you get a complaint in?" 

"...Yes. They said that they would look into it and will most likely suspended her contract for now," she returns in a slow, thoughtful tone, eyes quickly flickering up to yours as you look at her. 

Oh you hope they fire that hollow souled bitch. 

You sigh again, regaining your inner calm at this news as you pull out your lunch. 

Ms Toriel looks like she's about to ask something else about this but then her face freezes and eyes widen as if she has seen something horrific. 

Confused, you follow her gaze down to the table before you, where your lunch is set out between your hands. 

"Is that all you are eating my dear?" She asks slowly. 

Huh?

You look at the sachet of instant soup and the bruised apple you had been about to eat, then back to her again. 

"Yes?" 

You can tell this is the wrong answer somehow as you watch Toriel holds herself very still, her paws forming fists on her dress as she stares at your lunch. It looks like she's just managing to hold herself back from shoving the little square of powder off the table. 

It's probably the fact that she's stoping herself from giving you a healthy eating lecture, that prompts you to explain your eating habits further. 

"I suppose it looks a little... well, it's only lunches that are like this. I eat a lot more at dinner. I have to cook proper meals for Patero," you unthinkingly blurt out. 

"Who is Patero?" She naturally asks, curiosity overcoming lecturing instincts. 

You scratch your ear, wondering both why you told Ms Toriel about him and how you could possibly describe your Patter to her. 

"... He's my foster kid," you simply tell her in the end. 

Eyes flicker faintly on an otherwise unmoving face. Then she's looking at you strangely, making you avert your eyes again and bite at your lip. 

"...Oh.... I did not- You have a child?"

She seems surprised, you hope that this simply because of your age. 

"He's one of my old students," you explain "he- uh-lost his Dad and needed someone to- well- somewhere to live,"

Her eyebrows rise and mouth parts at this little piece of information but then, as swiftly and suddenly as a changing wind, she's smiling down at you. 

And it feels like a real smile, full of warmth and approval. You fight the heat creeping up your cheeks (a loosing battle) and quickly excuse yourself away from her strange, steady gaze.

The next day, at lunch time, she sits near you again and very loudly shares out some home baked goodies with everyone, giving you a look that promised intense lecturing unless you joined the delighted horde of staff. 

So yes, while at times you still feel a bit embarrassed, you've stopped limboing past the head teacher's office every morning and have even started to stop to wish her good morning a few times. 

 

The you of a few months ago would've thought this was all as surprising as it could get but it doesn't stop there. What shocks you the most -well almost the most; still running a close second to the frankly bizarre, friendly attitude from Ms Toriel- is the parents' reaction to you. 

In that they actually like you.... ye-ah... you're _really_  getting on with the parents which, again, is _bloody_ weird. 

You mean, you used to be okay with them in other schools and even occasionally managed to meet some pleasant ones (you think of Patter's D-Mahd for a moment and softly sigh) but it was seldom that they were interested in you as a person. It was all business and the odd awkward piece of small talk, which you readily understood and expected. Both they and you had vastly more important things to worry about: their children. 

But in this school, even on that first day, you had many parents looking at you with real interest. 

There was one in particular who made a **big** impression on you on the second day of the job:

 

 _A very tall skeleton had been standing just inside of the doorway as the bell rang.  He looked as if he_ **could** _have struck an imposing figure with his tattered, cape-like scarf, his dark, empty eyes and his colossal stature; but the affect was rather ruined by the squealing children attached to his knobbly legs._

_He caught you staring and somehow managed to blush a bright, blood orange hue._

_"CHILDREN. I KNOW I AM GREAT AND SO IT MUST BE DIFFICULT TO TEAR YOURSELVES AWAY FROM MY AMAZING-NESS... BUT... CAN YOU LET GO OF ME NOW? PLEASE?"_

_The small twitch at your lips almost grew into a smile as he tried to carefully extract himself from their vice like grips and they started climbing up his limbs like kittens on a curtain. It didn't look like he was trying too hard to shake them off and the children could obviously tell by the way they giggled and grabbed ahold even tighter._

_Eventually you took pity on him and shooed the children away, reminding them that they had people waiting for them._

_"AUDIBLE SIGH OF RELIEF" said the skeleton before turning to you and scratching the back of his skull with an awkward, but massive, grin._

_"HELLO HUMAN STAR TEACHER. I AM THE **GREAT** PAPYRUS! I AM HERE TO WELCOME YOU TO THIS SCHOOL! I, ALSO, WORK HERE SOMETIMES. I AM THE LEADER OF THE FAMOUS PUZZLE CLUB ON WEDNESDAYS. ALL THE CHILDREN WHO NEED TO BE INSPIRED AND MADE HAPPY BY MY GREAT SMILE COME. AT LEAST THAT'S WHAT TORIEL SAYS. I THINK THE LITTLE ONES JUST FIND ME TOO COOL TO STAY AWAY! NYEH-HEH!"_

_You blinked rapidly as you digested what he just said to you._ _The moment of silence stretched just a second to long as you saw his grin deflate ever so slightly, and suddenly you found yourself garbling a reply._

 _"Uh_ _h-human star teacher?" You ask._

 _" '_ parently you were in a movie or something _" came a voice from behind 'The Great Papyrus'._

_You peered your head around the gigantic figure in front of you to see a much shorter skeleton slouching against the door frame with a fixed grin as he stared steadily at you with two pin-pricks of white light for irises._

_You blinked twice then stood straight again to face Papyrus._

_"... Tales of my uh 'film career' have been greatly exaggerated," you explained awkwardly, unconsciously trying to match his dramatic tone. "It was just a background role,"_

_"SO HUMBLE! YOU MUST BE VERY GREAT TO DOWNPLAY YOURSELF SO MUCH STAR TEACHER. YOU REMIND ME OF MYSELF... BUT NOT A SKELETON..."_

_You tried to explain again that no, you're not a film star (not at all) but he didn't believe you after that, thinking you were just being humble._

_The smaller skeleton seemed_ _to find your attempts to correct this misconception hilarious though if the muffled sniggers could be anything to go by._

_"AH YES! SORRY STAR TEACHER THIS IS MY BROTHER SANS," Papyrus explained, stepping aside as he noticed you trying to peer around him to examine the giggler again._

"sup _" t_ _he guy nodded to you._

_"WATCH OUT FOR HIS JOKES AND PUNS. THEY ARE AWEFUL!!! MAKE SURE NOT TO ENCOURAGE HIM."_

_You looked at Sans who was slouching against the wall, gazing off to the side and smiling absently. He didn't look like he was that interested in making jokes with you._

_You turned back to look at Papyrus who was staring at you expectantly. ...He_ _still looked so famil- **oh.**_ _You suddenly knew where you had seen his face from._

 _"Can I ask you something?" You_ _tentatively_ _asked him, allowing your curiosity to get the better of you as you took a small step closer to the joyfully smiling monster._

_Out of the corner of your eye you saw the brother shift and pull himself away from the wall, turning to watch you with a heavy gaze. Papyrus on the other hand looked delighted to be asked a question and exclaimed an enthusiastic:_

_"GO AHEAD HUMAN STAR!"_

_"..._ _Is that **your** face cut into the bushes at the front of the school?" You asked, opting to ignore the 'human star' thing for now. _

_Papyrus looks nonplused for a moment, as if he thought you were going to ask something else, then his grin seemed to double, no triple even, as he... struck a pose..._

_The brother slumped back against the wall and started snorting into his shoulder._

_"I SEE YOU RECOGNISE GREATNESS WHEN YOU SEE IT STAR TEACHER. YES! THAT IS ME! THE SCHOOL REQUESTED MY LIKENESS TO INSPIRE THE CHILDREN FOR ALL THE DAYS THAT ARE NOT WEDNESDAY AND WHO WAS I TO SAY NO?!"_

_You were entirely unsure of quite how to respond to that, but felt your lips turn up into another almost-smile._

_Luckily you were saved from having to reply verbally as you spied the time on the clock and realised how late it's gotten._

_"Sorry P- uh- the great Papyrus. I have to dash; I've got to go pick up my s-" you stopped yourself, surprised by the word that had been on the tip of your tongue._

_"...PICK UP YOUR S?" Asked Papyrus._

_You started and turned to look at the two skeletons who were somehow looking at you with concerned expressions. You realised you had suddenly stopped talking and had been staring up at the ceiling in silence._

_"you alrigh' there?" Asked Sans, giving Papyrus the side eye over his huge grin._

_"Uh yeah. Sorry, gotta run and- oh hi Frisk!" You exclaim as you turn around to find Frisk staring solemnly at you._

_The solemn look on their face dissolves as you bring up two fingers in a peace sign then form a bouncing L shape._

_Gently they take your hand and you kneel down so they can reposition it better._

_"Oh so it needs to come from my face?"_ _You laughed as you tried again._

_You didn't see the expressions enveloping the skeleton brothers' faces as you straightened up, waved one last goodbye and dashed off._

 

After that you often see Papyrus at the end of the day, beaming like the bloody sun as he asked question after question about your life:

"SO WHY AREN'T YOU A FILM STAR ANYMORE?"

"WHERE DO YOU COME FROM STAR TEACHER?"

"HAVE YOU MET METTATRON? THAT GUY IS SO POPULAR AND COOL AND AMAZING AND SO  **POPULAR!!"**

"HEY CAN YOU DO THIS STAR TEACHER?"

"DO YOU LIKE SPAGHETTI-? WAIT, OF COURSE YOU DO. WHO **DOESNT** LIKE SPAGHETTI!?"

"ARE YOU GOING TO STAY HERE FOREVER? I HOPE YOU ARE STAYING HERE FOREVER!"

 

He is... hmm... well he seems very nice to you, even if you never really feel like answering the more personal questions he sometimes throws out. 

But you were getting better and better at redirecting his attention for every day that you spoke with him:

"I'd rather find out why you've never gone into show business, you definitely have the projection for it,"

"Oh it's really boring where I come from, how about you?"

"Mettaton? Do you mean that robot on the cerea- ah- I mean. Sorry never met him, what's he like?"

"Uhhh... No..."

"..........yes?"

"Umm...well..."

 

Well, you aren't perfect yet but it has only been a few weeks. You have a lot of help with your question avoidance on Wednesday lunch times when he seems to be swallowed by a tide of children, or occasionally a tidal-wave called Undyne. 

You're kind of hoping you'll get more chances to practice your responses to him though. It's strange but at the end of each day you find yourself looking out for Papyrus's goofy smile and echoing laugh. You even start to smile around him occasionally. 

Sometimes his brother slouches over with him; he never says much but seems to somewhat find your brief conversations with Papyrus interesting to watch. 

It isn't just those two who you are talking to though. Inspired by Papyrus's confidence and easy(-ish) conversations with you, the other parents have started greeting you in the mornings and end of the day. 

You bizarrely find that you really like talking to them all, finding out what jobs they have and what they do in the spare time, and listening to their jokes. 

 

So things are going well, brilliantly in fact. Both your job and everything with Patero, well, it feels _too good to be true._.. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So back at school again after two weeks off. I meant to update yesterday but my brain had turned to mush and dribbled out of my ears by that point so I was in no fit state to write anything that looked remotely like English.  
> Really happy to see all the kids again though, they are strangely less feral than usual which is always nice. The holidays seems to have done them some good.
> 
> Anyway, enough about work, here's a new chapter for you guys. I had a lot of fun writing this one. Hope you enjoy :)

* * *

 

"Knock knock,"

"...who's there?" 

"Needle,"

"Needle who?"

"Need-a-lil money for some clothes,"

You chuckle, pulling your head out of the railing of shirts as you dig out your wallet and pass Patero a tenner, much to his surprise. 

"Uh- really? I was jus'-"

"What? Did you change your mind?" You ask in a deadpan tone, smiling softly when Patter, after a brief reflective pause, stares at you incredulously. 

"Did you mean to make a pun there?" He questions, frowning with frustration as you nonchalantly shrug and put the wallet away.  

You try to hide your grin as his wheedling gets louder and you tease him further with shrugs and silence. 

 

It has been just over a month now since you started your new job. That's over four months since your Patter joined you. 

Patero seems happy enough, both about the everyday stuff and your job, but continues not to be that curious about the people who go there, which gives you a slight pang in your stomach. You don’t know much about Monster culture and you’re often worried that you've cut him out of that world.

But he does seems happy... well, most of the time... you think he's been improving a bit lately at least: he's been smiling more. 

He's been laughing a lot more too _and_ enjoying his cooking. Often what you make isn’t all that stellar so you both much prefer cooking side by side; he just seems to have a better knack for matching flavours together... and making it taste not like styrofoam.

Ice Cream seems to be his obsession right now, which is helpful in keeping him cool in this oddly warm winter weather. 

Yeah he does have a habit of getting a bit frustrated now and then- but he's a complete cutey and you’re filled with _something_ everytime you see his face scrunched up with brain freeze. 

You are unending and unwavering in your efforts to keep him smiling. Which is probably why you will react the way you do when you see that smile put out by cruel, thoughtless words. 

 

You’ve taken him shopping to get some new clothes, (how he’s growing so bloody fast you don't know- he’s only a little bit smaller than you and he’s only eight) and he's finally stopped needling you about the pun to he go try on a few hoodies and shirts he liked. With a smiling sigh you slouch against one of the grubby walls of the changing room and stare absentmindedly up at the spiderweb of cracks across the ceiling.  

Your gaze is brought back down to Earth with the soft squeal of a child.  You look to your right and see a blond woman, only a few years older than you, jigging a smiling toddler on her hip. 

"They really need to repaint the walls in here," she smiles at you, nodding to the ceiling you had been gazing at. 

You hesitantly nod back and for some reason, maybe it's the good mood Patero's put in you or maybe it's the giggling child pawing at his mother's chest, you decide to try for a verbal response. 

"The curtains are in need of a good wash too," 

"Oh yeah, _gross_! Hey Jake! Don't touch the curtains too much, 'kay?" She calls out, nodding in a satisfied way when she hears a muffled "Okay!" from the other side of the changing room. 

"You here with your kid too?" she asks in a more normal tone of voice. 

You nod and then, slightly unsure of what to say, you simply reply with a:

"... He grows too fast,"

"Yeah! I swear they're like mushrooms sometimes. Especially this little one," she laughs, jiggling the little boy again to his chortling delight. 

Your eyes soften slightly and you open your mouth to ask about her child, only to stop when you see the sudden frown on her face. 

You follow her gaze to see Patero carefully pulling back the curtain, trying not to touch it as much as he can. 

“They let anyone in don’t they. Hope they wash those clothes after that freak used them,”

There is a long silence. 

She turns to face you when you don't reply but you're no longer looking at her. You're looking at your Patter.  

He heard what the woman said. You can tell by the stilling of his body and the way his eyes grow distant, then lock on you.

His smile is gone. 

Right- well- usually you don’t like conflict, you do it when necessary but otherwise... you much prefer to calmly explain things or to go a different route to sort out your problems. The thing is... the thing is he is looking at you **now**. Patero is watching you as you listen to him being insulted and  _You_.  _Aren’t. Doing. Anything._

You can’t just leave this woman to wallow in her own hurtful bigotry, you have to do something but your mind draws a blank.

So, for the first time in a long time, you just _let_ the words you are thinking tumble out of your mouth.

“You will not talk about my son like that,” You inform her, turning your head, your eyes unwavering on hers. 

The woman freezes at the same time as you as those words sink in. Her eyes widen in shock as she looks at you then at your Patter with disbelief.

“I- it's your so-?”

Your dazed thoughts are cut short as you hear her stuttering attempt to speak. You interrupt her. 

“ _He_  is not a ‘ _freak’_  as you so put it.” _You hate words like that_. “I hate words like that. When someone says it, all it does is put a label on the one who uses it. Do you know what that label is?” Your voice is soft and pleasant as your eyes flicker from her smiling child to her bewildered, hurt expression. 

“He-hey you can’t talk to me like-”

“There are many words for this label,” You interrupt her again, tone still kind and warm and your eyes intent on her shifting gaze, but your voice is loud and abrupt in the silent changing room. “Bigot, racist, prejudiced… I could come up with more but I think these words can be painful to hear. I don't _want_ to use words in a way that hurt you. I don't _want_ to be the sort of person who does that...”

The woman’s mouth parts as she meets your eyes, seeing the emotions pouring out of them as you survey her.

You take in a deep breath, pushing down the horrible clenching feeling in your stomach and turn to face Patero… who is staring at you with a parted mouth and huge eyes.

“Hey Pater, any of those fit you okay?” You ask, trying to keep your voice from shaking. 

Slowly he nods and lifts up a stripy t-shirt. 

“Cool, let’s go get that then. Do you want to try anything else on or are you good?”

He hesitates for a moment, eyes travelling behind you, to that woman, before snapping back to you. He toys at his lip with his jagged teeth for a moment, then a faint but determined look lights up his eyes.

“I- uh- I’d like t'look at some hats… Mahd,” he murmurs quietly, and a rush of startled warmth rushes through your face, causing all expression to freeze on your face as you process those words. 

_Did he just...?_

A surprised smile replaces the forced one on your lips.

“O-Okay... ice cream to the one who can find the most ridiculous hat. Looser has to wear it!” 

"Y-you're on!"

 

And so it is, half an hour later, you’re running through the mall with a hyped up child on a sugar-rush to rival all sugar rushes on your back, sporting a day glow pink, butterfly hat on which makes it look like your head is being attacked by insects.

You both are laughing hysterically as he cries out:

“Mush! MUSH!” 

His words get a bit garbled after that as you almost topple forwards and you both have to stop moving while you get both your breath and balance back.

Tears are streaming down your face and you cannot stop laughing, which only sets Patero off again. Neither of you notice that people are stopping and staring at you as you both gasp for breath with aching chests. 

It is only when your eyes catch on a somewhat familiar figure that you calm down enough to take note of your surroundings and remember you are in a public place, surrounded by rather large amount of freaked out looking shoppers. 

Your delighted smile fades as you take in the skeleton standing before you, staring at you over a frozen grin, his pinprick eyes flittering from you to Patero in rapid succession. 

You falling grin catches on your face though and deepens to a soft sincere smile as you notice one of your current students staring up at you with the widest eyes you have ever seen on them. 

Perhaps, if you weren't so surprised yourself at seeing them, you would realise that this is the first time you've seen these expressions on Frisk's and Sans's faces, almost like a bombshell has been dropped on their heads. 

You shift Patero slightly on your back so your right arm is free to make a thumbs up motion then pull your hand from the left side of your chest to your right.

_**'Good morning.'** _

Frisk quickly signs back, a huge and wondrous grin on their face, and you feel Patero slip off you to stand by your side.

The children look at each other, with wide, startled eyes. Frisk's mouth parting and Patter's jaw dropping as his eyes cautiously shifted from Frisk to Sans and back again.  Your own eyes travel once more to the person standing just behind Frisk, who has been staring at you with a glassy grin, seemingly for a while now.

“Hello again,” you say to him and he blinks twice, coming out of whatever thought that had been consuming him and grinning anew.

“sup’ teach, like the hat,” Sans returns, nodding to you as he takes in your appearance. 

You lightly wince at that, scratching your head embarrassedly as you surreptitiously wipe the water from your eyes.

“Yes, I think I’m setting a trend,”

Patero tugs lightly at your sleeve and you look down to see him giving you a flat, faintly worried, look.

“Oops, sorry Pater," you say, mistaking his expression for irritation that you hadn't introduced them yet. "This is Frisk, one of my students, from that school I told you about, and their… uh…”

“friend-slash-baby sitter: sans,” Sans supplies with a small nod, the little dots of light in his sockets now focused intently on the nervous looking Patero. 

“Frisk, Sans, this is my… son, Patero,” You give Patero a careful glance as you say those final words, check to make sure he was okay with you introducing him like that. He seemed okay if the small, reserved smile was anything to go by.

There is a beat of silence. 

“…son eh?” Sans smirks. “have to say you guys look son-sational together,”

There is a puffing silent laugh coming from Frisk and you look down to Patero to see him smiling with wary delight at the pun.

“so what you cool kids up to?” Sans asked, absent-mindedly ruffling Frisk’s hair as he spoke.

“W-we’re goin' to the park to play volleyball now,” Patero spoke up in a small but progressively more even voice, paw clenched tight on your sleeve. 

“volleyball? Well I  _DIG_  that,”

“...it’s a  _HIT_  with my friends,” Patero returned with a larger smile, his paw loosening from its death grip on your arm.

Sans started chuckling faintly, his eyes subtly moving from your arm then back to Patero again.

“mind if we tag along? or we could **_set_** up a play date another time?”

You and Patero exchange a glance at that. You think he looks cautiously pleased by the twisted smile on his lips, so you nod and quickly agree.

 

And so it is, just over one hour after that foul woman almost ruined the day, that you're sitting on a park bench, watching Patero have the time of his life battling against a surprisingly agile Frisk.

San’s seems to be texting someone as you both watch but you have a feeling he’s very good at dividing his attention. Whenever Frisk hits the ground hard or falls over, his thumb freezes on the screen, eyes gazing steadily into nothing, until the kid laughs and gets up. 

You awkwardly shift on the splintery bench where you're both sat, trying to think of something to say. 

“...They’re good at this,” you finally comment as you watch Frisk attempt a slam dunk. Your Patter isn’t taking that lying down though and quickly returns it. 

“yup, frisk takes after me with the agility thing,” Sans hums distractedly, balancing his phone on his potato shaped- stomach. You mentally shrug at this and continue to watch him as he puts down the phone and finally turns his lamp like eyes on you.

“i take it Patero doesn’t take after you too much,”

“…Eh, you’d be surprised,” you nonchalantly answer, keeping the faint frown of irritation hidden under a breezy, uncaring attitude as you turn your gaze away to watch Patter return another volley. 

"mmmnnn..."

You can feel him staring as you look out at your surroundings. 

"Fine," you mumble to yourself when his steady unblinking stare gets to be too much. "Well we're obviously not related. He's my foster kid, took him in when his Mahd (that's his Dad) past away,"

"...how'd he die?" He asks in a toneless voice. 

You frown and turn to him for the first time since you started speaking, to find mere pinpricks of light looking back at you out of the pitch black, tunnel-like sockets. 

"... I was told it was a car accident. Someone was driving drunk, killed herself as well as him when she went up on the pavement and crashed,"

There is a long moment of silence, then Sans puffs out a tight sigh and looks away, much to your relief. 

"monster community's tight, would've thought i'dve heard of this..."

"... As far as I can tell he didn't really like company even from before he and Patero moved here. But still that's... strange. Social services told me they were looking for family but hadn't found any. Would've thought..." your voice fades away as you think of that first person who called you about Patero, about how Fran isn't in charge of looking for family members herself. _What if..._

"i could get someone to ask around if you..." Sans starts to offer, but then he then sees your face and the words he is about to say curdle in his mouth.

"...course they'd probably be happy to leave the kid with you if your both okay with that. no one'd try'n take him from you," 

You start to breath again. 

"Uh, I... well if Patter wanted..." You find your lips moving of your own accord as you turn to look back at Patero hit another serve, throat tight and aching with an odd, horrible burn. "Yes. He needs to know if... well so he can have a choice if there's anyone left." 

"i'm sure he'd choose right..." Sans pauses and follows your gaze to you son again. 

"...How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard," you murmur to yourself with a strange, laughing twist to your mouth. 

"didn't peg you as a fan of winnie the poo," Sans murmurs, slouching back against the bench. 

"Used to love it when- well, I still do," you return with a small sigh "and you?" 

"paps discovered it recently. i mainly like it for the name,"

You send him a disappointed look at his crude humour which he sees through as clear as a window, sending you a shit eating grin as you try to stop your mouth from quirking up. 

A comfortable silence reigns as you both sit on that creaky wooden bench, watching your charges go head to head with unsurprising gusto. 

The quiet moment strains though as you feel Sans glancing at you several times, and as you turn to see the words obviously building up behind his toothy grin. You look away and simply sit, staring blindly into space until he cracks. 

"how'd you end up with a monster as a foster kid anyway? if you don' mind me askin'"

You felt the tension leave your limbs, only realising you had been clenching your fists when you see the indents of your nails on your palms. 

Raising your eyes up from your hands, you realise Sans is waiting for answer as he steadily gazes at you. 

"He wanted to stay with me, I was his teacher once and he asked if he could- well- I wasn't going to say no, especially when that first social worker was so-" you cut yourself off when you saw Patero pick up the ball and bound over to you with a grin. 

"Hey M-Mahd, Sans, wanna join?" He asks. You look over to Sans who grins at you both and puts away his phone. 

"hang on a min, i think there's someone coming who'd _dig_ this game much more than this _lazy bones,_ "

You quietly smile as Patero grins and laughs at Sans's weak pun and tries to return with one of his own. 

"You'd be a fool t' _pass_  this up,"

"heh you're alrigh' kid. is this where he takes after you teach?"

"Hardly," you return "I can't make a joke to save my life,"

"That's not true! You made one earlier... right?"

You shrug, keeping your own shit eating grin hidden as Patter starts fuming again only to be cut off as a booming voice cuts through his protests. 

"OH! HELLO STAR TEACHER!" You jump up and spin around quickly, lips turning up in surprise as you see that familiar skeleton bounding towards you with a huge toothy grin.  

As he arrives he turns to Sans with a questioning glance. 

"SANS IS THIS WHY YOU SAID IT WAS SO IMPO-"

"sup bro," Sans cut in with a lazy wave, watching you from the corner of his eye as you continued to surprisedly but happily gaze up at Papyrus. "these 'cool kids' need an extra player for their v-ball game. thought they'd like to see a pro in action."

You watched with unconcealed amusement as Papyrus's chest puffs out with pride. 

"AN EXCELLENT DECISION SANS! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL OF COURSE ASSIST IN THIS SPORTING ENDEAVOUR!"

"This's the Papyrus you were telling me abou'?" Patero whispers to you, staring up at the skeleton with a surprised expression. 

"AHAH NATURALLY YOU HAVE  BEEN TALKING ABOUT MY GREATNESS TO- UH... I DON'T BELIEVE WE HAVE MET?"

"Oh! This is my son, Patero,"

Patero blinks twice, a small frown dimpling his brow but when you look down at him he beams at you. You don't see Sans's eyes narrowing into thoughtful slits over his perpetual grin as you beam back at your son. 

"...?!" Papyrus exclaims, looking at you and then Patero with surprised, googling eyes. "...WOWIE STAR TEACHER!!! I DIDN'T KNOW HUMANS COULD HAVE -"

"hey paps weren' you gonna show them how to play volleyball?" Sans interrupts to both your and Patter's relief. 

"AH YES! PREPARE TO BE BEATEN STAR TEACHER AND NEW MONSTER FRIEND!"

Papyrus is true to his word (for the first match at least) as he excitedly slams down the ball with such force that, as you watch the punctured ball ooze into a puddle of plastic, even you have to say it:

"I prefer mine served sunny side up." 

You turn to smile at Patero as his head spins and he glares at you. 

"I knew it! You did make a joke earlier!"

The glare turns into a grin and then a laugh. 

Papyrus however does not find this new side of you so amusing. 

"NOOO! NOT YOU TOO STAR TEACHER! JUST FOR THAT YOU ARE GETTING _SANS_ ON YOUR TEAM!" He shouts, putting something away into his pocket and stomping off to the bench Sans is dozing on. 

You turn to Frisk, confusion evident on your face, only to receive a smirking shrug back. 

You turn back to find Sans being plonked down on your left by the irritable Papyrus. He's looking just as bemused as you. 

"wha'?" 

You shrugged. 

"Papyrus wants you on our team," 

He raises an eyebone at that. 

"rrriiight... well, hate to burst your bubble bro! (or volleyball in this case) but we have nothing to play with,"

"DO NOT WORRY! THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAS THOUGHT OF AN AMAZING SOLUTION TO OUR WOES! IT IS A TRUELY BRILLIANT PLAN, WORTHY OF A MEMBER OF THE ROYAL GUARD (if that were still a thing). YOU REALLY WILL BE BLOWN AWAY BY THIS BRILLIANT PLAN!"

"you texted undyne huh,"

"I TEXTED- SANS!! HOW DID YOU KNOW?!"

Sans shrugged, a smirking grin plastered on his face. 

Patero seemed to take pity on Papyrus though, perhaps recalling your previous light hearted teasing and relating to Papyrus's confused plight. 

"He can see her, over there," he states, a soft look similar to yours on his face as he watches Papyrus turn and squint across the park. 

Sure enough, in the distance, you can see the bobbing sway of red hair as a blue figure belts across the park at full speed, a sack of what is presumably volleyballs attached to her back, a mushroom of dust and torn up grass marking her trail. 

Your smile almost splits your face. 

* * *

 

"C'mon! Put some backbone into it!"

With Undyne in the game, punctured balls becomes the norm for almost every round. It's lucky she brought so many spares. 

"Whack it like you're killing it kid!!"

It's _unlucky_ that she isn't on your team. 

"My pet goldfish has more bite than you two!"

That doesn't stop her from trying to give you and Patero advice though. 

"Stop trying to pass to Sans!"

Yeah that's a good one. You have been passing to him out of habit and need to stop. Sans is more like a boulder than a player. In fact Patero seems to be using San's head as a bounce point to pass to you. 

Sans doesn't seem to mind this if his lazy grin is anything to go by. 

Things start to get really fun though when you and Patter set up a slam that Undyne, not Frisk or Papyrus this time, misses. 

Her roar echoes across the park and suddenly there's a big blue spear in her hand and a ring of smaller spears surrounding the court. 

"welp. i'm out," Sans states and vanishes off the court. 

It takes you a moment to collect yourself after witnessing the giant blue glowy spears and Sans's disappearing act but recover yourself you do. 

"Looks like powers are in Patter," you smile evilly, wiggling your eyebrows at your kid. 

Patero stares at you incredulously, then at the other team, then back to you again. 

"...Really?"

"Yeah, let's flatten them!"

He grins, shark teeth flashing bright as his dark eyes light up like a Christmas tree. 

With a soft circular movement of his right hand, the ball is picked up by a small current of wind from the other side of the court and lands in your palms. 

"well this just got interesting," states Sans from the sidelines, opening a bag of peanuts. 

"Let's do it!" You grin at Patter before serving the ball high into the air. 

And when you say high, you mean _high_. 

"Let's do it!" echoes your Patter. 

The game then starts in earnest as the ground ruptures around you, almost shaking you to your knees. Odd, bone-like structures burst out of the ground, almost tripping you over as you danced around them. 

"What the-?!"

"NYEHEHEH! CAN YOU BEAT MY AMAZING SPECIAL ATTACK STAR TEACHER?!"

You blink in surprise and look to Patero who is grinning determinedly at you. 

"Definitely!" You return as you move, feet dancing one in front of the other as you weave through the twists and turns and use the odd structures to kick off of and strike back at the hit from Frisk. 

Undyne quickly returns the volley with her spear and with seemingly enough force to drill through rock.  Somehow though, when your palm collides with it, the force doesn't seem as strong as you presumed and you easily return it (much to Undyne's frustration.)

The game only continues to get tougher and rougher though and you have no clue how you are holding your own facing against three opponents, two of which are warrior monsters with-

Wait, no, that's a lie. You know how you're managing to escape the curb stomp: Patero. 

"Air scooter!" He shouts out and you jump out of the way just in time to see him whiz past, perching on top of a ball of compressed air as he bats back the ball with a one handed strike (the other hand bending and contorting across his body as the wind swirls beneath him) 

"gotta say, the kids got some moves," comes the voice of Sans, surprisingly close to you, just a few inches to your left. 

"That ones my favourite," you state, not looking his way as you get into position again, eye literally on the ball "we saw it on this cartoon called Avatar. He's been obsessed with learning all the mov- Patter! Air funnel!"

You jump forwards and hold you arms out as Patero spins and sweeps both his arms back, pulling the ball towards you in a funnel of air that dissolves just as it reaches you, allowing you to smack back the ball onto ground of the opposing team's side. 

"Boom! You hungry? You hungry? Coz you jus' got served!" Cries Patero, sticking out his fist to you as you pound out a fist bump before he excitedly bounds around the court. 

“stop _egging_ them on!” Sans shouts after him with an ear splitting laugh. 

"I- you're pun-ishin' us with tha' joke," returned Patter, chortling as he notices Papyrus stomping his feet on the ground, presumably in irritation from all the puns. 

"so he worked that one out _himself_?" Sans asks you in a lower tone as you watch the other side regroup (Frisk leading the tactics meeting with a determined grin on their face) and as you smile at Patero pausing in his funny, leaping dance to raggedly catch his breath. 

"...Well we used the TV show at first, there's a lot of martial arts and real world practices used in it. I did a bit of research and it turns out it's based mainly on Bah- Baguah- wait a moment I can say this... _Baguazhang_ martial arts. We looked at this and also found a form of meditation to help his breathing and finer control." 

You pause as you consider whether you should tell Sans about the 'magic of air' book that you 'borrowed' from the school. But, well, you and Patter had only used it a little and you don't really fancy Toriel hearing about you ta- _borrowing_ magic books. Your pondering is cut short however as Sans steps in front of you with an odd look on his face. 

"...what?" 

"Well, it's also called circle walk-"

"no-i mean you- you taught him all  _that_?" He asks in a weird, almost strangled voice. 

You're saved from having to answer him as Frisk serves and Patero shouts out another move that you race to comply, circling around him, to act as a bizarre mirror to your Patter as he draws a leg back and spreads out his arms in a wide swooping motion, pulling air particles tight into his body. 

As the game continues you feel yourself grinning in earnest, jumping up higher and making larger leaps for the ball. 

"Help me up Patter, _air blast_!" You shout as you leap up into the air, fist outstretched and fierce grin on your lips as your eyes latch onto the ridiculously high arch of the ball.  

Air whistles past your ears and suddenly you are thrown upwards, further and faster than you anticipated. A swooping feeling fills your stomach as you leave the ground behind you and soar into the sky, eyes watering with the rush of wind. 

But you're still grinning as the tears stream out behind you, you don't care that you’re too high as you punch down on the ball and keep on going, your cheeks aching with the burning smile you give your opponents-

Who are staring up at you with wide eyes, arms falling limply to their sides in surprise. 

Your smile fades as your hair starts to float up around your face and small spheres of teardrops fly upwards. Suddenly you realise what's happening. 

You're falling. 

Wind buffets at you desperately, as if it is trying to keep you up or to slow you down, but it's not strong enough. All it does is spin you in round as you plummet down, faster and faster, until you finally-

Freeze. 

You blink rapidly, breath like ice in your chest as your eyes cross and focus on the blade of grass tickling your nose. 

Then you drop to the ground and it takes you a moment to regain cognitive thought. It takes you even longer to realise several people are shouting your name and you are lying face first in the grass. 

You sit up just in time for a gigantic Skeleton to plough into you. 

"STAR TEACHER ARE YOU OKAY?!?"

You stare gormlessly at him. 

"Wow," you say, meeting the dark pools of his eye sockets that somehow conveyed a concerned gaze. 

Then you blink and shake your head, loosening it from his tight grip. 

"I'm fine, thanks," you say, dusting yourself off and standing up, offering him a hand when he doesn't move from where he had knelt beside you. 

"You okay?" You ask. 

"Heh... NYEHHAHA! HUMAN YOU ARE TOO KIND TO BE WORRIED ABOUT ME WHEN YOU WERE SO NEARLY INJURED! I TRULY DO HAVE GOOD TASTE IN FRIENDS!!"

You feel your lips twitch up at that as he takes your hand and you pull the surprisingly light skeleton up. 

It is only then that you realise that Patero is not next to you. Instead he is still stood in the exact same place on the court as he was earlier. 

"Patter! You okay?!" You ask, rushing past Papyrus towards your son, stopping just short of touching him. 

Patero doesn't say anything, simply staring at you. 

"You okay?" You ask him in a gentler tone, your hands itching to cradle his lowered face. 

He joltingly nods once and you find yourself releasing a relieved gush of air. 

"...I- I'm sor-" he haltingly starts to apologise but you cut him off as soon as you see that quavering downturn to his lips. 

"Don't be. That was my fault, I told you to do that and- well it was really fun actually!" You laugh slightly as you remember flying into the air. "I felt like superman Patter!"

"But you're not!" He suddenly shouts, his dagger teeth gritting and dark eyes flaring with an emotion you have never seen in him this strongly before. 

You pause, confused as you watch him freeze and sharply look away. 

"Patter?"

"...Sorry M-Mahd. I jus'..." He falls into silence and you gently kneel down before him. 

"I'm fine. Look at me Patter. You caught me, I'm fine,"

He looks down at you, eyes tracing over wind tangled hair, grass stains and the soft tear tracks crossing your cheeks. 

"It wasn' me who caught you,"

Your tight smile fades slightly. 

"...What? But-"

"Hey you okay punk?!" Comes Undyne's voice, interrupting your confused questioning as you turn around to give the worried fish monster a thumbs up- only to be swooped off the ground in a tight hug. 

"...Hey Undyne, who caught me?" You ask once your mind has stopped spitting out static and allowed you to detangle yourself from her. 

You feel a tug on your sleeve and you look to your right to see Frisk signing something with a gentle smile. 

_**'S-A-N-S'** _

_...Oh._

You turn around to see Sans being hugged off the ground by a squealing Papyrus. 

He catches your gaze over his brother's shoulder and gives you a little nod. 

You smile at him, a sincere feeling of gratitude flooding through you as you mouth your thanks, amused when the guy just stares blankly back at you. This silent staring competition is interrupted though when Papyrus does a strange dancing spin and almost drops his startled brother.   

You start laughing with delight.  

Oh what a weird day. 

"Why are you laughin'?! You could've got hurt! I almos'-" 

Patero shuts his mouth with a click as you twist around and pick him up under his arms, spinning him around with you as your laughter grows and grows.  

"How awesome are you Patero? I don't think I've had a day quite like this ever in my life. _Thank you_ ," 

He squirms in your grip and you let him go, but not before ruffling his hair and giving him a shit eating grin. 

He hesitates but eventually a small, almost tired, smile curls tightly on his lips. 

"Oh it's on," he declares as you turn tail and run. 

It doesn't take long for Undyne, Frisk and Papyrus to join in this new game. 

The broken remnants of the volleyball game lay forgotten on the grass as you run. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh... enjoy?
> 
> *Throws chapter at you and runs away*

* * *

 

Something is wrong with Patero. 

You started to notice it a week after that game in the park. You catch him sometimes, staring at you with a strange, frustrated look. 

But then he'll just smile, saying he's tired, that he's just hungry or some rubbish and brush you off every time you try to dig a little deeper. _Somehow_ he managed to convince you the first few times but now you _know_...

"He's upset about something but he won't tell me what," 

Alphys shifts nervously next to you as you break into one of the scones Ms Toriel gave out, not a single crumb touching your lips as it came undone under your fingers. 

"Y-you'll find out. You- you're doing a good job with him," she softly tells you, putting away her marking and turning to face you as you lower your head once more. 

You let out a soft hum, still not stopping in your absent minded pursuit of total scone destruction. 

 

Alphys was one of the first to find out about Patero outside of those at the park. She certainly wasn't the last though. 

At school it seems like both Papyrus and Frisk have been going on a gossip spree, telling anyone and everyone about the superstar teacher who has a monster for a son. This lead to some very bizarre conversations both with parents and teachers. Mostly Toriel was the weirdest, in that she didn't say anything. She just shoved a bag of home baked goods at you a few days ago, with a weird bittersweet smile and such a big hug that it made your brain short out. 

You sigh again and you notice Alphys starting to fluster and panic from the corner of your eye. 

"He- he hasn't said anything else?"

"...not really... He's been getting more frustrated lately though, sometimes trying trying to get me to rise to his bait, saying silly things that seem like they're s'post to upset me."

"What sort of things is he s-saying?"

Your hands still for a moment as you look to the ground. 

 

**_"I don' wanna cook. Why do you think you can have me do stuff like tha' all the time?"_ **

**_"You don't have to Patter. I thought you enjoyed-"_ **

**_"Well I don't,"_ **

 

**"Patero, why is your meditation mat torn up?"**

**"It was an accident,"**

**"...it doesn't look like-"**

**"It was an _accident_ ,"**

**_"Hey have you seen my hair brush anywhere?"_ **

**"... _I don't know where your stupid hair brush is. Why are you blaming me?"_**

**_"Patero, I'm not."_ **

_**"Yes you are, it wasn't me!"**  _

 

You sigh, lifting your gaze from the floor and focusing on your hands again. 

"Just things...it's not often and he's great most of the time. I'm **not** gonna have an argument with him."

"But y-you're upset. May-maybe he's picking up on that,"

"But I'm only upset because he's upset," You blink at her in surprise. 

Alphys nods at your nonplused look. "And where will it end then?"

Slowly, a small smile quirks at your mouth as you register both the meaning of her words and the fact that she hadn't stuttered. 

"I think I better find out what started this off, talk to his teacher. He's got volleyball tonight so I can go in just a little earlier, see if anything's happened that he's not told me... He's always worst when he comes back from school and lately he's been rushing off quicker than usual, almost like he doesn't want to be seen with me... or _something_... I thought he and Mr Dane get on but... Alphys, something feels _off_ there."

"... T-that may be a good idea but be careful. Maybe it'd be b-better to find out from him?"

"But he's not going to tell me!" You exclaim, a sharp spike of guilt stabbing at your chest when Alyphs rears back slightly at the sharp tone of your voice. 

"Sorry Alphys," you sigh, rubbing at your forehead. "I shouldn't let this get to me so badly. Thank you for giving me such good advice." 

"N-no it's fine. I'm glad you think my advice is worth hearing," 

You look up at that small voice, frowning slightly as the words curl in on themselves. 

You put a hand on your colleague's shoulder. 

"Seriously, _thank you_ ," you softly murmur, eyes full of warmth as she looks up and meets them. 

Her eyes flicker away from yours, fixing on your chest for a moment then down to the floor as a smile envelopes her worried expression. 

"You're welcome,"

 

* * *

 

 

The door to what you thought was Mr. Dane's classroom slips from your slack grip, closing behind you with an audible click as you take in the familiar figure before you. 

"...Well, never thought I'd see _you_ again. Weren't you **fired**?" A high, airy voice breaks the silence. 

You stare at the 'teacher' sitting at the desk you once claimed as your own, cheaply manicured hands clacking on the desk as she wipes an invisible speck of dust off.  

_**Natasha Bradare.** What are **you** doing still teaching?_

"...Tash. What are _you_ doing here?" You ask, expression blank as you try to regain your inner calm. 

" _Don't call me that,_ " the woman spits out as you raise an unimpressed eyebrow, before she seemingly composes herself and sends you a withering look. 

"Isn't it obvious? Doing your job. That's what I'm doing here." A smirk breaks through her expression as a flicker of emotion surges in your eyes. 

"Mr Dane still needs a supply?"

_'No longer needed' my arse._

" _Needs_ and _wants_ one. Wow, I didn't know there was _such_ a lack of _good_ teachers in the area... How's the job hunting going by the way?" her thin, tight, sweet smile doubles over cold, watery eyes as you stare at her, desperately trying to keep your lip from curling up in contempt. 

Natasha Bradare. Living proof that manure can sprout legs and walk.  Bloody hell. What foolish,  _misguided soul_ hired her? You once had the misfortune to work with the putrid shit stain and had sworn by all the gods of all the religions in the world that this would never happen again. Obviously your messages of complaint had been acknowledged by neither gods nor the supply agency. 

There's no way you're letting her know Patero is your kid. Shit, she's probably already said something to him, you just know it, but if she finds out he's yours then there'll be no stopping the bag of bile from going after him. 

"I'm surprised you've managed to get another job in this area after your time in Ms Toriel's school, let alone after that RE fiasco in St. Martins," you murmur, face still deadpan and expressionless as you watch her cheeks flair with annoyance. 

"That was just a misunderstanding, _you shouldn't have got involved in that_ ," her eyes darken and her voice lowers in warning, but you don't notice that. 

... _Misunderstanding_? She had been insulting the kids in her class and telling them that Muslims were all terrorists. She had been saying that foreigners shouldn't be allowed in this country and that they will- _oh you don't want to remember what she said_. You do however remember that little girl, Kaheeaha, who had come to you in tears, scarf ripped and half torn from her head by her classmates, heaving wet, choking sobs into your shoulder. You can still feel those frail, trembling shudders under your hands and the water seeping into your shirt. 

You suddenly find yourself towering over the woman, a shadow across your eyes as she blinks up at you with those wide, watery grey irises. 

You don't say anything though, you just stare at her until her breaths come out short and sharp and her eyes flutter downwards. 

"What the hell are you here for anyway?!" She snaps suddenly, pushing back her chair and standing as if to be on equal ground as you. As if that was even possible. 

You look down at her and shake your head. 

"Just came by to see if the rumours were true and to tell you this..." You tilt your head to the side, lips parting and teeth shining in the dull artificial light of the classroom. "d o n t  m e s s  w i t h  m y  c h i l d r e n."

You don't take pleasure when you see her shiver (perhaps remembering what you said to her last time you both had spoken). Nor do you take pride in the flash of hurt on her face or the fact that she steps back from you. No, you know she's gotta open that stupid, racist mouth of hers and try to have the last word. 

"You- you fucking  _bastard!"_ She all but screams, jabbing your chest with a sharp finger, trying to make you loose your balance as she spits out bitter words. " ** _I_** don't hurt people, _you do. You almost got me **fired**! _ But guess what?! They're **my** class now, not yours. _You_ lost them. _You_ messed up this time, not me. Tell me, _supply_ , how's the job been treating you lately? Good? I **really** hope not."

You don't say anything. You just continue to stare at her. 

"N-now g-get out of here before I call the police," she shakily spits out at you, unable to look away from your gaze.  

"... **T** ( _r_ ) **ash** , if you were twice as smart, you'd still be stupid,"

"W-what the fuck are you saying?!"

 _I'm saying that if I called you an idiot it would be an insult to idiots,_ you think but you bite your lip. 

"I'm saying nothing T _(r)_ ash. _Not yet_."

The woman glares at you with utter loathing through those frightened eyes. 

Karma takes too long. You just want to beat the bigot out of her here and now, but you miss your chance as she flounces out of the room with a shaky huff. 

You sigh and sit down on one of the kids tables, running a shaking hand over your eyes. 

People like her... you can't do anything about them. You once felt like maybe you could, you believed that if you could find the right words, spoke to them clearly and opened their minds to the pain they cause...

Well, let's just say it's hard to open a mind up to all the possibilities of the world when it is locked from the inside. 

It was a hard lesson that you had learned long before meeting Natasha. It does not mean this sort of stuff still doesn't make your chest heave with tight bubbling anger though.     

Your fist smashes down on the table you're sat on and you let out a sharp breath of pain as you look down and realise-

You're sitting on Patero's desk. You're where you once sat beside him and helped him find fractions of pencils. 

" _You're not making sense. The numerator for what?"_

A sad smile tugs at your lips as your brow furrows and your hand traces over the smooth surface of the desk- only to spasm and freeze as it finds crude letters carved into the wood. 

 ** _'Hairbrush_**.' 

 

* * *

 

 

Your movements are stilted, stiff and unbending. A cold puff of air escapes your lips as you pull back you arms in mismatched unison with your son. 

You gaze at him as you move, eyes roaming over his down turned face and jolting, unflowing movements. 

It's not always been like this. Before you would both be fighting a smile, meeting each other's eyes as you gently matched each step, arching your arms up in slow powerful sweeps with smooth coiling and uncoiling actions. 

Usually, as the circle walking would continue, the pace would speed up and Pattero's movements would stir the air around you both, aiding in your balance when performing high kicks as the wind buffeted around you and kept you upright. You would both keep going until your abdomens tingled with the ache of hard work and breath came hard from your chests. 

But there is no ache today, no wind. There hasn't been for a few weeks now.  

"Let's stop," you murmur, pretending not to notice Patero's sigh of relief. Instead you focus on putting away the mats, brow furrowed and lips drawn down as your hands make quick work of the task.  

"...M-Mahd, you okay?" You blink twice and look up to see Patter biting at his lip, eyes not quite meeting yours while he stands before you. 

"Patter..." You start, not exactly sure of what you're about to say. 

Patero seems to have an idea of it through as he looks around sharply with a tight smiling pull of his lips. 

"Wow I uh- I'm wiped out. Better go ge' ready for bed huh,"

"Patero."

"I'll see ya in the mornin' M- Mahd, nigh-"

You're eyes have registered Patero’s odd smiling face and you mouth is moving before you can even think of stopping it. 

“Hairbrush,” you say, watching him intently.

The effect is instantaneous. A light stirring of the air curls around you as Patero freezes. He turns to you, black eyes wide and unblinking. 

"... _What did you call me_?"

You knew it. 

"They're bullying you again aren't they. They're calling you things like hair-"

"Don't."

"Why didn't you tell me Patter?"

Patter was silent, breathing deeply, staring at the floor with slit like eyes. 

"Is it that messed up teacher? Did she say something-"

"You- you talked to Miss Bradare..." He looks at you with something akin to horror. 

"Things aren't going right. Why didn't you tell me? If you tell me these things I can- I... I thought that you were happy..." Your trail off as your hair stirs in a light wind. You do not pay much thought to this though, right now you're only noticing  Patter's paws clenching into spiked fists. 

"...You think I should smile, don't you? I smile. I should laugh shouldn' I? I _laugh_. You- you think I should be happy... Tha' I can be happy when my Mahd is- that I'm glad he's- and you're- I'm your - your-" his low carrying tone cuts off as his head snaps up towards you and a snarling hiss escapes from his lips "I don' have to tell you these things. I'm not- I'm not yours to tell you all you _want_!  I can do this by myself!"

"D-do what by yourself?" 

"Stop it. I don' want this. I don' have to tell you anything. I'm his and- and _you don't know him_. I'm the only one who does!"

"Wait, Patero. Are you talking about-?"

"I'm all he has and I've been- I don'- I'm stuck here and you- you think I'm cute, that I'm nice and happy but I'm not. I'm not a PET! Not yours. So s- stop... _stop callin' me your son_."

You feel the blood draining from your face, the unsteady hitching of your breath, the numb buzz to your fingertips. You feel it all, but none of it registers in your mind as you see Patero glaring at you through dark, frightened eyes. 

"I never thought- I- if you don't want me to call you my-"

"Th- there you go again. You are always doin' that; pretendin' to care, to be what your _not_ with your _fake_ _soul."_

"Wait what?"

"I- I just don't want you to call me yours! I don't belong to- to- _Just go away!_ "

"Patter, wait!" You grab at his arm as he turns to leave, clinging on against the strong buffet of air. 

"No. Get off me!"

"Patero, _please listen to me_ ,"

"Stop it!"

"No. No! I'm not leaving until we sort this out."

"JUST GO AWAY!" He shouts, bringing his hands down sharply, a rush of air cannoning outwards. 

 

_...In the kitchen a drop of water falls into the sink, the soft plink echoing in the deafening, humming silence consuming your home._

 

You see Patero's feet before you, unmoving and frozen as you listen to his short, sharp intakes of breath. 

A haze seems to come over your eyes to mirror the wave of searing pain spreading across your chest, and, as you slowly stand up, you find you can no longer see his face clearly. 

Your own face feels numb as you turn it away from the petrified gaze you cannot see; your legs like lead as you move them away from your- away from him. 

You step into your bedroom, quietly close the door and curl up onto your bed, hands cocooning the bruise blooming over your chest.  

Undefined thoughts float through the icy haze of your mind as you stare at the wall, chest rapidly rising up and down as your hands fall slack and numbness weaves its way through your bones.  

Sleep is a long way off.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I meant to update on Tuesday but the week has been taken over by my mysterious chest injuries and parents evenings.   
> Yep, it's that parent's evening time of year again and the children are suspiciously quiet and well-behaved for the most part. It kinda reminds me of how I'd be as a kid trying to suck up to Santa in the run up to Christmas. Except I'm not giving out presents and they all bloody well know it... *insert evil laughter and thunderstorm effects* 
> 
> Nah I'm quite nice about all that though (I wish I could go all Roald Dahl on them just for giggles but they're actually too nice to deserve it... most of the time)
> 
> Anyway, as a celebration of the upcoming late night at work, I decided to hurry up and get this chapter out tonight. I hope that you all enjoy it and um... sorry for the last chapter... and for bits of this one... ENJOY!!!! :D

* * *

 

You don't wake up the next morning. How could you when you never fell asleep?

You don't hear your phone chime at 2am though. Nor do you hear the sound of pigeons cooing at the first hints of cold morning light. 

It is only when the faint, winter sunlight starts to filter into your room that you realise that you've been hearing something for a while. 

A soft knock on the door. It's hardly a knock though. It sounds more like the soft patter of rain against a window. 

_Patter_... 

You stumble off your bed and hastily pull on some new clothes, rubbing at your face. You- he can't see you like this... he... he...

You don't notice when the knocking stops as you stare at your hands and slowly, hesitantly, bring them up to your chest. 

A hiss escapes your lips and you wrench your hand away. 

He used magic on you. He **hurt** you. 

_He- he didn't mean too..._

Your face crumples in on itself as you realise you've had thoughts like this before,  _when you were a-_

But _he's_ a child; he's not like... He's _Patero_. He... he _really_ didn't mean it...

You suddenly realise that there are no more soft knocks whispering through your room. Silence is oozing under the door and you look up with wild eyes. 

" _Patero_ ," 

Your eyes blur as you fly towards the door, wrench it open and-

-And he's standing by the front door, dressed and ready for school. He's not looking at you.  

The panicked inflation of breath in your chest is punctured, leaving you staring at the child with a flat, uncertain expression. 

He's not even looking at you. 

"M- morning," you say, wincing at your faint stutter. 

His paws tighten on his bag and he. Still. Won't. Look. At. You

The air is strained and stale between the both of you as you gather your things, and walk to the door. You try not to wince again as he dashes away as soon as you unlock it. 

The car journey feels longer than usual as you open your mouth to say something so many times, only to close it again, lips trapped between your teeth. 

When you drop him off at school, a memory cuts through the fog and _somehow_ you're considering going into the school to talk with the staff, to let them know about the bullying... but Patero meets your eye before opening the door.

“Don’t,” he simply says as he leaves.

You sit in the car in silence, your lips spilling copper onto your heavy tongue, before silently driving away.

 

* * *

 

Everyone knows something is off about you when you get to work.

Children are very intuitive and easily know when something is wrong, even if they don’t know that they know. They are slightly more rowdy and distractable in response. You have to work hard to keep your cool; it is incredibly easy for you to fall into anger right now and the children d o  n o t  d e s e r v e  y o u r  b a d  t e m p e r. 

You don't feel real though as you harden your mask, smiling, nodding and parroting information to the children, quietly thinking of many things and nothing at the same time as you go through the motions. 

You then discover that you can't keep this up forever as you find yourself cornered in the staff room. 

"STAR TEACHER? WHAT'S WRONG?!"

You look up blankly from your empty lunch bag to see Undyne, Alphys and Papyrus surrounding you with concerned gazes. 

_Why is Papyrus-? Oh, right, it's a Wednesday..._

"I'm fine," you say. 

"Y-You're not though," murmurs Alphys, sharing a worried glance with Papyrus. 

"You're as far from fine as you can be!" Snaps Undyne, putting her hands on your shoulders, forcing you to meet her gaze. 

That bright yellow eye is filled with a genuinely worried expression, her hands softly resting on your shoulders as she gazes at you. 

There's a small crack in your mask as you carefully move out of Undyne's grip. 

"I- I had an argument with Patero." You murmur. 

You look at these people as they circle you with kind, concerned expressions and the crack extends, cutting deep. 

Words start to tumble from your mouth. 

You're not sure why you end up telling them. Maybe it's something to do with the way their eyes won't leave you, intent and intensely focused on you. 

You don't tell them all of it though. You _can't_. 

Alphs gives you an odd look, obviously spotting where you skipped part of the story but the others don't notice. Undyne even smiles at you and tells you it’s about time you two had a fight. You don't know how to correct her on that one so you don't try. You just shrug and keep on talking. 

When Undyne realises why you argued she offers to go beat up the bullies, leaving a faint look of horror on your face.

"I- I'm just joking, I wouldn't really hurt those brats," She quickly backtracks when she sees your expression, looking down at her hands for a moment with a complex, contemplative look in her eye. 

"I- I wouldn't..." she trails off with a huff and glares at her clenched fists. 

A small yellow claw gently rests itself on her fists, shaking her from her contemplation and drawing her into Alphys's steady gaze. 

"IS THAT ALL HE SAID THEN STAR TEACHER?" Interrupts Papyrus, startling all three of you as you turn to look at him. 

"No," you say, before frowning faintly at the slip of your tongue. 

"What else did he s-say?" 

You sit in silence for a moment, brow furrowed.

_The crack splinters into a fracture._

"He said something about my soul... something weird..."

"Well yeah, you have like a super weird soul, _**cool**_ but weird," comes Undyne's helpful response. 

"...What do you mean?" 

They all exchange a glance at this

"You mean its subconscious?" Alphys  blinks rapidly behind her thick glasses. "You don't know you keep changing your soul colour?"

By the blank look of dull surprise on your face, it becomes obvious that, while you knew about the monster's view of souls in general, you didn't know about this little fact. 

"W-well it used to look purple all the time, which means perseverance mainly (and _um_ sometimes it's for a _uh_ 'poisonous personality') though l-lately, after we a-all got to know you, it often shines green... not today though. Today you're purple again and a- a bit hard to see so that's w-worrying..."

"ITS HOW WE KNOW THERE'S SOMETHING NOT RIGHT STAR TEACHER. YOUR SOUL ISN'T CLEAR TODAY!" 

"Yeah punk! Cheer up and go back to my favourite colour!"

You lips almost twitch into a semblance of a smile at that but a dark thought quickly consumes your face. 

"...So I really am fake,"

"Did he say that to you?!" Undyne asks with an unhappy grimace. 

"IT MUST HAVE BEEN A MISTAKE. YOUR SON MUST HAVE- HE UM- HE USED THE WRONG WORD! YOU'RE NOT FAKE STAR TEACHER!" 

You're silent. You don't respond. 

**"You think I should smile, don't you? I smile."**

You didn't notice.  _You_  didn't notice that he was forcing those grins, forcing those laughs. _You_ didn't realise that he is in so much pain that he...

_You've become something you never thought you would be._

You shouldn't have called him your son. He's not ready for that. What if he doesn’t want to be with you anymore? What- what will you do? Will you go back to those days of living alone in a one-bedroom flat, eating single microwave meals and doing nothing? Go back to being alone? ... _W i t h o u t  P a t e r o_ -

-And suddenly you're seeing red. No, you're not angry. You are _literally_ seeing red.

"P-Papyrus?" You ask, blinking rapidly, his vibrant scarf burying your face as he pulls you even tighter into his body. 

"IT IS GOING TO BE OKAY. YOU UNDERSTAND? IT WILL BE FINE!"

... You can deal with most things. Someone yells at you? A good steady stare can set them down. Spit balls? A stern word. Anger, hatred, pain, just suck it in and get on with it... but a hug?

Your eyes swim as your body tenses, you feel your brow furrow and your teeth grit as a hiss of air whistles through them. His arms only tighten around you at that. 

"W-we're here for you," came a soft voice and the warm pressure of a scaly talon on your shoulder. 

"Yeah punk! Don't worry. We got your back."

The warm voices of these people surrounding you, the weight on their support on your shoulders and across your chest; it makes you feel... _something_ you never thought you could feel for anyone but your children...

You find your body relaxing into Papyrus's arms as you bring up your own, pressing your leaking eyes into his shoulder. Your chest hitches and heaves as you cling onto his strangely comforting, bony body.  

You feel light as your sobbing tremors run up your body. 

 

The mask breaks. 

 

"Oh no..." Alphys gasps and Undyne is pulling you from Papyrus's arms to stare at your chest with an alarmed eye. "What happened to you?!" 

You blink at her uncomprehendingly as water drips down your face, over loose trembling lips. 

"Your soul! It's been damaged! Who could have done that? Did a monster attack you?!" 

You're starting to feel tired, head pounding as water dries upon your cheeks. You open your mouth, not quite certain of what you will say to your friends' expressions of horror and worry... They look so much like his...

Then your eyes focus on a movement behind them, noticing someone you do not expect to see. 

Sans stands at the staff room doorway, frozen in the act of putting away his mobile, face immobile but for the movement of his eyes. 

Those eyes flicker across your chest but he makes no outward sign of acknowledging it. He seems to smile even wider for some reason, the pin-pricks of light in his eyes dimming for a moment before attaching themselves to your face and not leaving it once as he speaks. 

"there's a phone-call for ya teach, some school's asking you to come pick up your kid." 

"SANS? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Asks Papyrus, finally tearing his frozen gaze away from your chest to look at his brother with bewilderment. 

"it sounded pretty urgent," he adds on, ignoring Papyrus and Undyne as she starts to puffs up and hiss something to him. 

"I- I've got to go," you say, pulling in a shaking breath, smiling at your friends with wavering lips. "Thanks you guys,"   

Again they all share an uncertain glance, obviously not wanting to let you go. 

"i'll go with, don't worry about them," comes Sans's soft drawl. 

"... I'll cover your class," Alphys says, turning to give you a quick hug before looking away with a wet sniff. 

"I'll be calling you later punk. Be careful!" 

"I ALSO WILL BE CALLING YOU. LOOK AFTER YOURSELF STAR TEACHER."

You smile weakly at them all before taking in a deep steadying breath and walking away.  

 

As you gather your things from the classroom you vaguely notice someone slouching in your peripheral vision. Picking up your bag, you take a deep huffing breath and face him. 

"You don't have to come with me Sans, I'll be fine."

Sans is silent for a moment, following you as you turn and leave the classroom. 

"dunno bout that," he mumbles, looking at his phone again as he matches your quick strides. "fri- _t_ _ori_ thought you could use some extra back up by the sounds of it..."

You're quiet for a long time as you both make your way along the hall.

"...Thank you," you finally, quietly murmur. 

"s'no big deal," he mutters, putting away his phone with a sigh as you both walk along. "...y'know... i like your kid- really i do. they kinda remind me of Frisk."

He looks at you as if expecting some sort of response to that. When nothing comes he looks away and continues to talk. 

"me and frisk... well let's just say we've got a- uh-  _complicated relationship._ they're a good kid and all but both of us have messed up, cut each other deep so to say." 

He takes a deep, huffing breath and continues.  

"you'd be amazed what beings can do to each other when things're bad- well 'praps 'amazed' ain't the right word- but kids y'know, they're just like adults, very good at keeping secrets, just like us, only they find it harder to know which ones to keep. they've gotta lot more lessons left t'learn, a lot more mistakes left to make but they've gotta have the chance to own up to it. you hearin' me teach?"

You finally look down at him, there's something about how he said all that, something about the dim lights of his eyes that made you pay attention. While your mind is still preoccupied by the numb buzz of undefined thoughts, you find yourself silently putting your hand on his shoulder, startling him. 

"h-heh- thanks teach but i think i'm not the one who needs a pat on the shoulder right now... tell ya what, i've got somethin' better than that: a short-cut, c'mon,"

Mildly confused, you follow him around a corner just outside of the school- and find yourself walking along the path to Patero's school. You stop dead. 

You open your mouth then close it, spinning around and looking behind you. 

"... _Huh_."

"c'mon teach, thought you were in a rush," 

You close your gaping mouth with an audible click and hesitantly nod. Yeah, you need to see Patero. 

You hurry after Sans, easily catching him up as you both make your way to the head teacher's office, where Patero is sat outside on one of the cold, metal chairs. 

 

The seconds seem to stretch as you stare at each other. His eyes are blank and unreadable and  _your_ eyes are rimmed with red and the shadows from a sleepless night. 

He doesn't look at you for too long, turning his head away, paws clenched tight. A flash of bitterness bites at your throat. You put it to the side though; not to be forgotten but to be dealt with later. 

You go in, expecting Sans to come with you, only to stop and look at him blankly when he doesn't. 

"you've got this one covered," he tells you as he lazily slouches into the seat next to Patero. 

You hesitate, hand twitching for a moment, almost as if to reach out before you stop it and simply nod, turning away and walking into the Head Teacher's office. 

As you enter the Head teacher stiffly greats you by name, waving at a seat opposite to him, across the table. Standing next to the man, just to the right of them is a person you don't remember by first name but you do remember by role. 

Mrs. Richards, the child safeguarding officer, gives you a tight, brittle smile as you take a seat. 

The head teacher starts to speak. 

You know you won't like what you hear. 

" _Your_ foster child attempted to maul a classmate this morning," the head teacher tells you, going straight to the point. 

You were right. 

"...Maul?"

"He attacked a child in his class today. According to both the child and the teacher, he was unprovoked," Mrs Richards quietly informs you, eyes opaque and unwaveringly fixed on you. 

The head teacher coughs, bringing your attention back to him as he flicks through a pile of papers on his desk. 

"We have been noticing a downward trend in his work and, more importantly, his behaviour at school lately. He has had an increased number of time-outs, has caused severe disruptions in class- often encouraging others to mimic his misbehaviour- and has had three detentions in the last month. This is the first time he has attacked anyone and, frankly, we are _very_ concerned."

You are silent, not sure exactly what expression is on your face as you watch the two professionals exchange glances. 

"We have to ask..." Mrs Richards speaks slowly and calmly, fixing you with a firm look. "What is life at home like for both of you...?"

"... I believe this is the point where I explain that home life is good and you don't believe me," You say, voice as hollow and lifeless as your eyes as you survey the two professionals before you. "I won't do this though until you explain to me _why.  Why_ are you questioning my ability to take care of Patero?"

They exchange glances again and you fight the urge to grit your teeth and clench your fists. 

"We... have been given several concerning reports concerning your past- and recent conduct. With this, and the sudden change in Patero's behaviour, you understand why we _have_ to investigate this further,"

You take in a sharp, hitching breath. 

"It was Bradare wasn't it? She told you-" you start to speak, looking down at your clenched fists, only to be interrupted by the stern, sharp words of the head teacher. 

"We are not at liberty to reveal who gave in the report, you know that. Now, are you going to comply or would you rather we called in your social worker for... your additional support,"

You feel empty. 

"Before you- before we do anything like that, I would like to hear Patero's side of this." You simply state, looking both of them in the eye 

"...Very well, you can go get him,"

You steadily stand up and open the office door, trying not to listen to the low pitched whispering behind you. 

When you step out to get him, Patero starts, staring avidly at you with wide unblinking eyes, gulping down short lungfuls of air as his body slowly turns away from Sans's grinning form. 

You look down at the floor, then back at him and quietly murmur that he should come in. 

Sans sidles in first, giving you a wink and ignoring the protesting head teach as he props himself up against the office wall. 

"He was sent by my school to accompany me," you tonelessly inform them. 

"They're still teaching?" the headteacher not-so quietly asks Mrs Richards with raised eyebrows. 

You ignore him. Sans doesn't though as he gives the guy an assessing glance. 

The head teacher finally settles down though as Patero takes a seat next to you, looking uncertainly at Sans then at you as you turn to face him. 

“Why did you hurt that kid?” you simply ask.

He stares at you with wide eyes, mouth firmly shut. 

You’re silent for a long time, patience bleeding through your steady gaze until he eventually opens his mouth to-

The head teacher starts talking. 

"He struck the child across the face with his claws without provocation. He should be deeply ashamed of himself for using his strength like that on a child and scaring all the normal children,"  

... And you snap. You no longer feel nothing as you turn to look at this person before you with wide, fire filled eyes. 

_Oh that's it. That is enough!_ Your body goes ridged, something inside you **_b u r n s_** and you open your mouth ready to chew out this joke of a human- only for a boney hand on your shoulder to stop you in your tracks. You turn to see Sans (no longer slouching against the wall but standing right behind to you) raise his eyebones and look pointedly towards Patero who's...who's face paints a searing picture of distraught fury.

_Oh_.

“…Y- you got something you want to say about that Patero?” you ask him, swallowing down the burning icy feeling in your throat.

Patero starts at your voice but, hesitantly, he nods all the same. 

"Sir, you're wrong, there's a reason I hit him, and... **and you shouldn’ say the word normal.** "

The headteacher blinks twice at this and starts to say something, but Patero doesn't give him a chance. 

“I don’ like the word normal. It- _it puts a label on the pers'n who uses it._ People only want things to be 'normal' if normal is wha' they **are**. Tall, small, fat, thin, whatever is you, the one in charge: tha's what's normal. Then others try'n copy it and if they can't or won't they're not normal... and I'm not normal to you. But I'm also not to everyone who knows tha' normal isn' a real thing." He pauses and looks at you, meeting your wide startled eyes with the shining inky blackness of his own. "The- the kids in my class didn' all know that though. But with an adult like my- like _them_  teaching..." He trailed off again, watching you as you joltingly pull your mind out of the fog consuming it and nod at him to _keep going_. "Well things were a lo' nicer in this school before you **fired them for tryin' to help me** ,"

You feel Sans shift behind you at that last bit but pay it no heed as you fall into those words tumbling from Patero's lips. 

"I was bein' bullied. They would steal things from me, tip my bag out over the school fence and say it was a joke, they put gum in my fur when they preten'ed to play tag. You- you prob'ly don' know they once tried to cut off my claws with safety scissors. They said- they said they were playing  _vets_ ," you don't notice the head teacher's blanched face or Mrs Richards's sharp intake of breath. You don't even notice the tightening of Sans's hand on your shoulder. All you see is Patter. "I- I though' this was _normal_. Tha' friends play like this and it was _normal_ for me to feel like I did. I don' know how or why I thought that but I did. Then **they** told me it wasn' normal, that there's no such thing as normal. **They** taugh' all my classmates that it's a bad thing to do. They helped them _and me_ realise it was messed up. **They're** the reason I have all the friends I do now. Do you know that now I am always first pick for PE? That I'm now the volleyball captain? That almos' the whole class want'd to vote me in as the class cap'? But- but  _you_ got rid of them for this, because of **me** they lost their job and because of you I got Miss Bradare instead." He stops talking there and the small office falls into silence.

"... how long's this _bradare_ been teaching?" Sans's voice quietly breaks the strangled hush. 

The Head teacher looks pale. Mrs. Richards looks sick. But you don't see this. 

For the first time since Patero first opened his mouth, you speak. 

"I've taught in the same school as her before. She called a child of mine a word I will not repeat here. She encouraged the class to exclude classmates who wore headscarfs and told those children that they were being brainwashed by their families... I reported it but nothing ever came of it,"

"What?!" Exclaimed the headteacher, his eyes widening at your quiet words. 

"Patero, can you tell us what has been said to you?" Mrs Richardson interrupts the head teacher with a frown, forcing her own voice into a neutral and calm tone. 

Patero looks up at this calm voice, then at all the adults surrounding him. The head teacher has collected himself and is gently nodding at him with a serious expression. 

He takes another shaky breath, steadying himself, trying his best to stay calm like you. 

"Not much... She ignores me mainly, pretends like I'm not there... she said I'm like the class pet once and tha' I should stop showin' my teeth when I smile. But I'm not listenin' to her! I'll smile how I want. I- I can deal with her most of the time. Me and Zaayn and my friends told her not to say stuff like that and she started being mean and saying stuff like we're dumb so we should be quiet or- or that I should get a haircut coz I look like a- like a... and Jo- um this  _kid-_ who came after you fired my- well- they heard her and he started sayin' the same things but _worse_."

Patero stops talking, hissing deep breaths between his teeth. 

You slowly take his hand in yours, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth. 

"I didn't want them to know," Patter whispers, his hand tightening on yours, "I thought I could do it myself this time, tha' they won' get in trouble coz of me. I have friends and they're helping me but... I didn' wan' them to know..."

You _finally_ turn your gaze away from Patero and turn to look at the head teacher. 

He flinches as he meets your gaze. 

Mrs Richards starts to talk. 

"I'm sorry. We will report Natasha Bradare and have an official investigation. **_I promise you both_** , it won't be swept under the rug this time. We will also speak with the children involved with this and their parents. We won't let this happen again... I'm- _I'm so sorry Patero_ ,"

You blink at her, finally turning away from that man, surprised as you realise that she is; she really is sorry. 

You nod silently, too tired to even look at the stuttering head teacher, and stand up, gently leading Patero away, his hand still in yours. 

 

The office door clicks behind you as Patero pulls his hand from you and quickly starts to speak again, voice trembling. 

"Sorry, I'm sorry. _I'm so so sorry_. I- I..."

Silence reins. Then he looks up at you. 

"I thought that if you knew I made you loose your job, that if my magic hurt you again, you want to leave me...  I- I thought if I called you Mahd you'd wanna stay but... then you found out about the the new teacher and I- I thought..." His breathing hitches as you take his paws in your hands and he looks up with shining, panic filled eyes.

"You're going to leave me. Just like he did. I hurt you, I messed up and you- _you're g-going to leave me_..."

You find your voice. 

"...I- I could never leave you Patero. Don't you understand?" your whisper almost echoes as you bring up your left hand to cradle his face, your broad thumb wiping away the hot tears beading down his cheek. "I love you. Oh god, I- I love you _so much_ and I-I'm so sorry you thought I-you thought-" your breath hitches and catches in your throat. You don't feel the warmth spilling down your face. You don't hear your wavering voice as your head bows and sob escapes from your trembling lips. 

You don't know who reached for who but in the next moment you are holding and being held tightly and desperately, ragged breaths heaving into each other's shoulders. 

You try to speak, voice cracking and stumbling but you say those words anyway. You need to say this:

"You're so **brave** andI am so **so proud** of you for saying all of that, an- and I'm _sorry_ I didn't see all these things hurting you. I just wanted to keep you happy, to keep you from being sad... but that was _**wrong**_." You pull in a deep, shuddering breath as you feel the dampness seeping into your shoulder. "Oh I'm so sorry Patter. You- you don't have to feel like this alone," you breathe into his ear, water steaming down your face once again as you hold onto your boy as tight as you can. 

His returning words are lost in echoing sobs as you both fall to your knees, his arms wrapping like a vice around you, as if he is scared you'll somehow slip from his grip; as if you ever could. 

 

How long you both remain like that, hissing out soft painful sobs and murmuring hushed truths, you do not know. You just know it feels both like forever and a second at the same time. It is only when Patero shifts slightly and looks around, that your grip loosens and you remember that there is a world outside of Patero. 

"...Thanks, Sans," he says, eyes intent on the awkward looking skeleton, who had been standing a little way off, acting as vigil to your moment of consolidation. You blink rapidly, looking from one to the other, taking in the sincere and thankful tone in Patero's voice and Sans's stiff but kind smile as he reluctantly shuffles closer. 

"s'okay kid,"

The pieces snap together, clearing the haze from your mind: you leaving them alone together, Sans helping you to let Patero speak, Patero thanking him... You face Sans, staring up at him with shining eyes. 

" _Really_ , thank you Sans," you tell him, eyes bright and warm with unending sincerity. 

Sans coughs, the white irises of his eyes turning away for a moment then back at you both with a brighter light than you've ever seen in them before. 

" _you two,_ stop giving me diabetes with your sugary sweet feelins," 

You both laugh, eyes fixed on him as he looks away again, mumbling something about how he’s going to go disappear to Grilbies, as he tries to brush past you both and leave. 

He doesn't succeed though as (united as one) you and Patter grab both of his arms and pull him into your smiling, tear-filled embrace. 

He tries to (unsuccessfully) get out of the bear hug, squirming slightly in your and Patero's arms. 

_It doesn't feel like he’s really trying though,_ you note as you and Patero tighten your hold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last chapter to go :)


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

 

Champagne bubbles and glitters from the fountain of shimmering flute glasses before you as you stare up with wide eyes and wonder... _how are people supposed to have a drink without toppling the whole bloody thing down?_

This is the first time you've ever seen one of these things in real life so it's understandable that you have no idea how to navigate it. It's not often that you celebrate new year’s eve at all, let alone in a party extravagant enough to have one of these. 

All around you gold and silver balloons wave and bob in the cool, breathy night breeze, lit up by strings of golden fairy lights and blazing yellow candles. Warmth somehow permeates the air and the soft grass you stand on (despite the lateness of this winter night), curling up your body as you gaze up at the tower of bright, sparkling glasses. 

You eventually move away from the mountain of alcohol, sighing at the missed opportunity of free drinks. Instead you walk around the edge of the garden, running your hands over the flamboyant peacock topiary (a reflection of the guy who's hosting, or so Sans told you) and smiling as you pass by familiar faces.  

Music strums softly, it's warm hum intermingling with the gentle chatter of the many guests dotted across the candle lit garden. 

You smile fondly as you see Fran animatedly talking to that shy ghost you briefly encountered earlier (Blooky or Napsta-? yeah you think it's Napstablook) and an odd robot-like guy with florescent-purple shoulder pads. 

She gives you an excited thumbs up and a wink before turning back to the ghost with a toothy grin. 

She's had that same exact reaction all night to pretty much everyone here (excluding Asgore who she had been too busy gawking at to give any other reaction than " _oh my god"_.) Looking at that goofy grin and hearing her barking laughter, you're really glad you and Patter were given a plus one invite. 

Speaking of Patter, you now spot him sat on a bench with Frisk, avidly watching their hands as they sign something to him. 

You catch a glimpse and start to laugh to yourself as you realise who they're talking about. 

'-  **and once I asked him to help me put my hair in a bun so he put a hot-dog bun on my head.'**

"i miss a joke teach?" 

Speak of the devil. 

You turn around and grin anew as a skeleton approaches you with two flutes of champ- wait-

"Have you put ketchup in your drink?" You ask as he hands you a glass. 

"may-be,"

You snort out a laugh as you clink your drink with his and take a sip. 

You can't stop the moan bubbling from your lips. It's good, really good.  this Mettaton guy really knows how to throw a party. 

You close your eyes with a wide smile, sighing softly with the cool breeze as it sweeps through your hair. Your smile only grows wider as you open your eyes and see a familiar skeletal figure happily marching through the crowds.

"Hey Papyrus!" you call, waving your arm enthusiastically, beaming as he excitedly spins around and bounces over to you, almost tripping over several monsters in his rush. 

"HELLO STAR TEACHER!!! HAVE YOU MET METTATON YET?! HE IS _HERE_ AND SUCH A GOOD HOST AND HE IS SO COOL AND HE IS HERE!!! I SAW HIM TALKING TO YOUR HUMAN FRIEND... THE ONE WHO HAS SOMETHING IN THEIR EYE AND KEEPS TRYING TO SHOOT AT ME WITH THEIR FINGERS!" 

_Ohh, so shoulder-pads is Mettaton!_

"I haven't talked to him yet, sorry. I'm sure I'll get a chance to meet him later though," 

"don' rush on that one," murmurs Sans, taking another swig of his ketchupane. 

Papyrus hums loudly, turning to his brother, obviously not hearing exactly what he said but somehow aware that he's not as excited as he should be. 

"Have you had any champagne yet?" You ask in an attempt to divert his attention. 

"YOU MEAN THAT FIZZY GRAPE JUICE. SANS MADE ME DRINK IT LAST YEAR WHEN WE WATCHED THE NEW YEAR TELEVISION SHOW AND I MUCH PREFER A GLASS OF FRESH MILK!... DO YOU THINK THEY HAVE ANY?" 

"Hi Papyrus!" 

You watched as Papyrus's smile redoubled when Patter and Frisk bounded up to him, giggles bursting from their lips. 

"I don't think they've got fresh milk but they do have:" Patter stops here and makes starts to sign. Both hands closed, with thumbs and little fingers extended, he makes small, alternating, up and down movements at first in front of his body then up, past his eyes. 

It takes a moment for all of you to get it. 

Papyrus looks like he's eaten a lemon, Frisk starts cracking a rib and Sans's face is utterly indescribable.   

"past your eyes milk…you just made a pun with sign language. oh i’m dead kid. you killed me with your _udder_ awesomeness."

Papyrus's reaction to that was loud to say the least, and attracted a lot of attention. 

Luckily, said attention came in the form of two good friends: one red haired badass and one yellow-scaled genius.  

"DON'T NOOGIE THE SKELETON!!!" 

You laugh as Undyne bounds in and gets set to noogying Papyrus like a penny on a scratch card. 

You catch Alphys smiling nervously at Sans before turning to give you a tight hug. 

"Happy New Years," she murmurs in your ear. 

You return her greeting with a grin like sunshine. 

"Oh hello there," comes the sweet mellow tone of your boss from behind you. 

You look around to see Patero bowing to Toriel much to her blushing embarrassment. 

 _Not as half as embarrassed as me when I finally figured it out,_ you muse to yourself as you watch the woman gently tell Patter that no, there's no need to bow to her. 

Sans steps in at that point though, either to save Toriel or to make things ten times as awkward. You find you can never predict which with that guy. 

"man, torri. you missed the best joke from pats. he's a proper comedian in the making,"

_Ah, saving it is._

"Well Patero, if you would ever like to hear the 'tricks of the trade', Sans is going to be starting a comedian club in our school," Toriel smiles down at him. 

"Really?" Patter asks looking at Sans as he gives a sluggish shrug. 

"Indeed, I had wanted him to teach computers but he sadly does not have the _drive_ ,"

Patter looks up at Toriel like she's the second coming and you start chuckling. 

"good one tori," Sans laughs loudly, smiling at the unladylike snorts emitting from Toriel. 

"I _am_ serious though child. If you would like to come to my school you are more than welcome. That is, if both you and your guardian would be interested in that,"

Patero looks at you, with wide, surprised eyes. 

"It's your call Patter," is all you tell him. 

Patero hums faintly, looking down at the ground then back up at Toriel, steadily meeting her gaze. 

"Maybe if you ask'd half a year ago I migh've said yes. But I've got alotta friends now, the new head's real nice and- and I've got some stuff I don' wanna run away from. We can do it all now, so I wanna try..." He turns to you with a slow toothy grin which you find yourself mirroring without a thought. " _May-be_ you should ask my guard instead, but like for a proper job this time,"

It takes about three seconds for you to register what he just said and one second for the smile to snap off your face and for you to turn into a tomato.

“ _Patero_!”

You catch Sans shooting a winking finger gun at Patero but are in no state of mind to process this as your skin burns with embarrassment. 

" **TEN!...NINE!...EIGHT!..."**

You give your thanks to whatever gods are watching over you tonight as the count down to midnight cuts this embarrassing topic short. 

" **SEVEN!..SIX!..FIVE!..."**

There's a faint tug on your sleeve as Undyne and Papyrus start screaming out the count down, and you look around to see Frisk motioning you to lower yourself to their level. 

" **FOUR!.. THREE!.. TWO!.."**

"What is it Fri-?"

" ** _ONE!!!!_** "

Frisk plants a huge kiss on your cheek as the people around you scream out their 'Happy New Years!' 

A shocked yelp of laughter bursts from your lips and you find yourself noogying the silly thing, much to their delight. 

Fireworks explode and you're quickly distracted from the flirty ten year old by a whining yelp to your left. 

Papyrus is covering the sides of his skull with an alarmed eye-popping expression. 

"WHY IS IT SO LOUD?! I DON'T LIKE THIS SANS! FIREWORKS ARE NOT LIKE ON THE TV!!"

You’re reminded somewhat fondly of your childhood dog's yearly reaction to the 5th of November as you and Frisk make calming motions and try to get him to relax. Luckily this appears to work, that is until Sans and Patter decide to wind him up again with a flurry of firework related puns. 

_("i didn' know fireworks would send ya off your rocket paps," "This show really start'd with a bang huh?" "that joke was sparklin kid")_

Soon enough though the puns fall onto deaf ears as Papyrus discovers that those loud explosions, while unnecessarily loud to his mind, are in fact actually very pretty. 

Whizzing pops and crisp crackles of explosions echo through the garden as everyone 'ooo's' at the flaming pinwheels and sparking fountains, and 'ahhh's' at the many spiralling rockets of gold, silver and bright purple. 

The fireworks don't seem to be doing their job of distracting one particular monster though, as Sans (the prat) just _has_ to go back to what you were all talking about earlier.

“the kid’s got a point about the school thing,” Sans hums from your right, looking behind you to where Toriel is stood.

The monster softly nods, continuing to watch the display as she speaks:

"The job offer _was_ going to be a surprise Sans, but I suppose I can not keep it a secret any longer... We are splitting up the key stage two classes and so we do need a few new teachers..." She looks down at you, eyes lit up by fireworks and fondness. 

Your mouth drops open in shock as you look from her to Sans then all of those who surround you, who have turned to you with delighted expressions on their faces. 

"congrats on the new job teach," 

The warm fizzing feeling in your stomach builds up into your throat and you suddenly find yourself laughing. 

It's not a humorous laugh though, nor is it humorless. It is but a soft bubble of happiness bursting from your lips, quiet and warm, barely audible above the fireworks. Your friends still hear you though, smiles deepening and crinkling at their eyes. 

The laughter fades and you're left with a smile that you think will never fade away. 

With Patero’s hand weaved into yours and friends by your side, you turn up to the sky once more and watch the new year in. 

 

You've still got a way to go. You and Patter have a lot left to learn about each other, there are many hurdles to overcome both for you and all of your friends, and there are so many problems between Monsters and humans left to face... 

But, as you hear far off barking laughter, as you see the many faces turned up to the sky as one and as you feel soft fur warm in your hand, you realise you  _know_. 

You know it's going to be a good year. 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wah! I can't believe this is finished. I really REALLY enjoyed writing this and I have to say a BIG THANK YOU to all those who enjoyed this too and supported me with their kudos and lovely comments. 
> 
> I kinda wanted to keep on going forever on this one. I really wanted to write about their reactions to all the different holiday's and celebrations (Easter egg hunts and pancake day, or making toffee apples and watching scary movies for Halloween), going on trips to places or even just domestic things (like what would a summer barbecue even be like with these guys?) but I think this is a nice place to leave it, when all these things are left to come and you know they're going to have a great time. There are still things that they will have to do and problems that will come their way but I want to also show a sense of hopefulness and excitement for their future. 
> 
> One last thank you to my beta Alkirian and to every one of you who has read up to this point. It means the world to me, it really does.


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